New Patterns & Old Fr : 02 Broken Things
by kalinda001
Summary: Sequel to the New Patterns and Old Friends Story. Story 2. Servalan sets her deadly sights on Avon.
1. Chapter 1

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter One

"Have we gotten all we need from her?" asked Servalan. She was speaking to Sester on the vidcomm from her official Presidential office at the Terran Government Complex on Earth. He was the psychostrategist whom she had tasked to work on Avon before he was freed by the West Europe Dome rebels.

"Yes, Madame President. Once Professor Tarkson identified the triggers, it was quite simple; she is vulnerable with respect to our friend. Tarkson is proving quite useful, it's a good thing you didn't have him killed when the rebels were neutralized."

Professor Tarkson was a respected leader in the area of psycho-drug therapy and had been a mentor to Dr. Alberay, one of the rebels of the WED group. He had been contacted by Alberay to help in diagnosing what the Federation had done to Avon's mind. Avon had been inadvertently freed when the rebels raided the Federation Special Detention Centre in order to rescue their captured leader, Argus. Unknown to them, Tarkson had already been identified as a security risk and had been coerced into cooperating with Central Security.

"I find it wasteful to kill people who are useful to me," Servalan told the psychostrategist.

"I will remember that," said Sester, the look on his face indicated that he didn't quite believe her.

"And can be controlled," she added.

"Of course." That piece of honesty caused the corners of Sester's mouth to lift in a slight grin.

"She actually believed you were one of the prisoners?" Servalan asked.

"Yes. I can lie quite convincingly when I want to."

"I will remember that," she told him, using his same words. "Avon is a cold-hearted computer whose first priority is always to himself. What makes you think that he will do this?"

"You already know he will, otherwise your ploy on Terminal with the fake Blake would never have worked, and he would have never been taken in by Anna Grant."

She nodded thoughtfully in agreement. "This is not foolproof. It will only get him to come but it will not guarantee he will stay. He is very good at escaping and he will come prepared Sester. Do not underestimate him, people who do that tend to fail miserably."

"He does have a highly tuned survival instinct, doesn't he?"

"Yes he has an annoying tendency to escape impossible situations designed to kill him."

It was a mutual admiration society for the man they were planning to destroy.

Sester noticed her quickly suppressed smile. Fondness? Amusement? Thoughts of Avon's impending defeat at her hands? One could never tell with the Federation President.

"There is one way to make him stay voluntarily; well somewhat voluntarily."

"Oh?"

"The techno-virus, the one mentioned in the Central Security reports on the Argus group. How far has the research progressed on it?"

"You want to use it on Avon?"

"No that way it wouldn't work; he will know soon enough that you have no intention of allowing him to die. He would use it as a tool against us."

"Then what," she started asking but stopped as it dawned on her what the psychostrategist had in mind. "Oh that's very good Sester."

"Yes, he will come for the game, thinking he has a chance to win."

"He won't realize until it's too late that he really is here to trade his freedom for her life. Yes, he might just do that. That's brilliant Sester."

"That's what you pay me for isn't it? It's a good thing you didn't kill her when you found her on Terminal."

_And a good thing I didn't kill you after you lost Avon on Gauda Prime. You already knew too much but you're also very good at getting out of things, aren't you?_

"I will send orders to Department Four of Medical Research. Science Commander Lathan will be coordinating with you. Are the other preparations ready?"

"Yes, everything is ready. And may I say you have a wonderfully sadistic imagination Madame President."

"Thank you."

"You do realize that even if he stays, he will never give you what you want. Even with the techno-virus, your control would not extend that far."

"That is why the information from our little friend will be so useful. All we need is to capture him again, the rest will come and this time he will never be able to escape again."

_If you thought this past year in the Special Detention Centre was difficult Avon what Servalan has planned for you now is infinitely worse._

"Initiate contact then Sester, let the game begin."

"Very good Madame President."

Servalan punched up the reports from Project Cooperation on her terminal and got back to the business of destabilizing the warlord controlled system of Sector Ten.

* * *

There was an icy silence on the flight deck of the Deep Space Vehicle. Argus was used to having men follow his orders without question; Avon never took anyone's orders. Even with Blake he could only be persuaded to follow if he saw a benefit for himself. The moment he felt that he was being manipulated, forced, or if he was not being given a choice he could become extremely difficult; it contributed to Blake's many headaches. The only reason Avon ever backed down in a direct confrontation with Blake, was because he was biding his time until he got the Liberator and ORAC for himself. 

Another source of tension was Avon's continued refusal to release ORAC's command code. Without the sentient computer's activation key, the only way to access it was through the transmitter Avon had built. The only one who could contact ORAC this way was the person who used the command code. And once the command code was activated, ORAC would only respond to the person who triggered the code until it was released. That was Avon; at least that was what he told them.

_Life with Avon onboard is never boring._ Vila thought as he came down the stairs leading onto the flight deck and noticed the strained atmosphere. Avon was working at the computer console in front of the Zen visual interface; he had his back to the rest of the room.

_That's a big "DO NOT DISTURB" sign if I ever saw one_ thought Vila.

Argus was following Jenna's instructions as he learned to pilot the DSV on manual; he was pointedly not looking in Avon's direction.

Vila sighed and went to his familiar station at neutron blaster control.

_If anyone asked me, I'd say Avon can have the headache of speaking to that arrogant, piece of junk. But of course, no one ever asks me._

Zen spoke "Information. Hull sensors register that the Liberator is being scanned by detector beams. A fleet of ships is approaching and has changed course toward this system."

Argus instructed, "Zen put them on the screen."

The view screen showed a star field and five ships in close formation. Avon moved over to his operations station. He addressed the computer, "Zen. Identify."

Zen: "Available data classifies them as standard Federation pursuit ships."

Jenna remarked, "That was quick. They didn't waste anytime coming after us."

Argus addressed the ship's computer again, "Zen, have the navigation computers plot an evasive course to take us away from them. Maximum speed."

Zen: "Course and speed confirmed." Being only standard pursuit ships, they were soon left behind.

"Running away?" Avon asked coldly. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"When I fight it is on my terms, not someone else's. I have never lost." The challenge was clear.

The chill in the air suddenly became frigid.

Vila noticed that both men's voices had lowered in tone; it produced a much more menacing effect. They both meant business.

Jenna stepped between the two men and said, "What is this? Duel at dawn? We just escaped from five Federation pursuit ships. Don't you think that there are more important things to do here than cutting each other's throats? If not then we should just give up, here and now. Is that what you want? "She looked pointedly at Argus. Until now Jenna had avoided getting involved in the two men's increasing antagonism. She knew that they had to resolve it themselves, but this was too much for her.

Argus broke his stare and turned to Jenna, "You're right Jenna." He turned towards Avon again, "Avon, Jenna said that you had developed an anti-detector shield on the Liberator, one which made the ship invisible to Federation long and medium-range sensors?"

There was no apology between the two men; it was only a temporary cessation of hostilities.

Avon replied, "Yes." Both men acted as if they had not just seconds ago, been escalating to a major confrontation.

"Let's make that our first priority."

"Agreed."

"Make a list of any parts that we don't have. We'll get whatever you need."

"Yes. Vila can help. We haven't checked the parts inventory in the ship's stores yet."

"When did I volunteer to be inventory clerk on this ship?" Vila was indignant at being drafted to do what definitely sounded like tedious work. Typical of an alpha-type to delegate the drudgery to the other grades.

"Make yourself useful for once Vila." Avon headed for the ship's parts storeroom.

Vila grumbled as he followed the analyst out.

* * *

Central Security's detention centres were full to bursting after the coordinated strike against the Earth rebel alliance based in the West Europe Dome, this was Argus's group. The information gathered by the Advanced Security Program virus before Avon destroyed it, along with Professor Tarkson's collusion and the use of Vila's passive tracer, before it malfunctioned, had enabled the security services to identify the majority of the earth-based alliance's members. Including Prake's team and the 624 team who had fallen during the ambush on Gauda Prime, the group was now effectively destroyed. Those fortunate enough to escape the dragnet were smart enough to stay deeply hidden. 

The only information Interrogation Division had not been able to obtain were the names of those in the command ranks of Federation military who were also part of the alliance. The interrogators were confident they would be able to obtain the information soon.

"That is excellent news Controller Tarvin," Servalan indicated her approval. "The malfunction of Vila's tracer did not prove that much of a loss then."

"No Madame President. We had already gained enough information using his tracer to identify the key members of the WED group and to plant the ASP. It is unfortunate that the SDC lost Argus but several captured members of the group have already broken. It's only a matter of time before we have a full list of their contacts in Federation military."

"I want that list Tarvin."

"It will not be long Madame President; we have increased the discreet monitoring of Federation military communication channels. And we have sent some of our best deep cover agents in as officers and other ranks."

"I want Othello sent in," Servalan told him, Othello was the new Bartholomew. Bartholomew had been the codename for Central Security's best undercover agent. She had also been Sula, the one-time insurrectionist who had almost achieved a coup at Residence One; and she was also Anna Grant, Avon's one-time lover and betrayer whom he had killed.


	2. Chapter 2

Looks of shock were reflected on all their faces as Avon shot Argus and then pointed the Federation energy pistol in their direction. They were all in the teleporter room.

Avon's plan to get away from the crew was working. For the last forty hours, Avon had been planting seeds of doubt about his true motivations. Using ORAC, he had taken over the ship and directed it to the nearest Federation base. He had also used Zen to lock all of the crew in their cabins while they slept. Argus, who had been on his shift on the flight deck, Avon had taken by surprise at gunpoint; hence the rebel leader's anger. Unfortunately, Vila had managed to escape from his cabin and released his companions. They had all come looking for Avon and caught up with him when he was about to use ORAC to teleport him down to the planet below.

"No one moves and no one else will be hurt," Avon ordered them.

Ignoring him, Cally bent down to examine Argus who had been hit in the right shoulder, and had collapsed to the ground. It was a serious wound but nothing the ship's medical facilities could not handle if he was treated soon.

"What are you doing Avon?" Cally asked.

"What I should have done along time ago," Avon replied. "Stay where you are Jenna."

Jenna had been trying to surreptitiously flank him on his left side.

"He's hurt," Jenna said angrily. "We need to get him to the medical bay."

"He'll live," Avon said coldly. "All of you move over behind Cally. Except you Vila. You go to the teleport controls."

They all did as instructed.

"To think I actually risked my life to save your miserable hide," Vila said angrily.

"Have you forgotten the autoshuttle so soon Vila?"

"I won't make that mistake again," Vila replied vehemently.

"Avon, why are you doing this?" Cally asked. She did not understand. "You saved my life, I thought you had changed."

"It is always dangerous to presume anything."

"You've made a deal, haven't you," Argus accused, he struggled to get up.

"Stay down there. You're much safer where you are," Avon told him.

"I knew you couldn't be trusted." Argus fell back down, supported by Jenna. In truth, he doubted that he could stay up even if he was able to stand.

"It must be gratifying knowing that you were right," Avon said mockingly.

"Avon the Betrayer," Vila said softly, remembering the phrase the Federation criminotherapists had used to program his mind against Avon. "I never thought I would agree with the Federation about anything."

Avon looked at him icily.

"Avon, I need to know," Cally would not let it go. _I need to know_. She projected to him telepathically.

He looked at her dispassionately; there was no indication on his face that he had registered her telepathic communication.

"Argus is correct; I was offered a deal, one worthy of my abilities. I have never believed in any cause, other than my own. I refuse to continue risking my life for a fool's dream."

"Show me someone who believes in something, and I will show you a fool, isn't that right Avon," Vila said scornfully, reflecting what Avon said many years ago to Blake.

"I see no reason to change that opinion," Avon said coldly.

Jenna and Cally also remembered the incident, and the confrontation between Blake and Avon. On that day right before Star One, Avon had expressed his desire to be free of Blake. He had never believed in Blake's crusade and he had finally had enough of being continually dragged into and manipulated into face dangers which posed no benefit to himself.

_"_But you are free, Avon," Cally remembered saying to him.

"I want to be free, of him," Avon had replied. In his voice there had been a cold resentment and a controlled anger which had been building for along time. The others may not have noticed, but Avon was very aware of Blake's manipulation of him. Avon played the odds, but Blake from the beginning, manipulated those odds because the rest of the crew followed him and by proxy, the Liberator and ORAC were his. He knew Avon wanted the ship and ORAC, and Blake knew that he needed Avon's abilities.

_Why are you doing this Avon? _Cally projected the question to him. There was still no indication he heard her; he was too focused to hear her.

She was aware of an undercurrent of weariness in him. There was much he was not saying, much he would never say to anyone. _That hasn't changed, has it_? she thought.

In the past forty hours, he had avoided her. As he stood there alone against all of them, she thought she knew why, she felt it clearly. He had been damaged deeply; he did not want anyone to know it.

_You don't have to do it this way. We would let you go._ She knew that he would never accept anyone's help.

"How much did she pay you to betray us?" Argus asked.

Avon looked at him sharply, there was no expression on his face. They all knew the 'she' Argus was referring to.

"You're not worth enough, alive or dead."

Jenna started forward angrily and Avon waved her back down with the pistol. "I wouldn't."

He backed up to the teleport bracelet tray and snapped one on.

"I am following my own path from now on and I am going to be well compensated for it. I am leaving. Do not try to follow me. Do not try to find me."

_This sounds eerily familiar _thought Cally.

Avon continued pointing the energy pistol at them as he backed up onto the teleport pad. "If you do, I promise you will regret it. The teleport coordinates have been locked. You can try changing them Vila."

Vila looked guilty. _Damn how did he know what I was thinking._

"But it would be a waste of time. Once I teleport down, the outbound controls will be cleared and locked so any attempts to follow me would also be pointless. I have directed ORAC to have Zen leave orbit the moment I have teleported down, you will regain control of the ship in three hours."

Without looking at him Avon directed, "Vila put me down."

"I know where I'd like to put you," mumbled Vila to himself as he operated the controls.

* * *

Avon had chosen a special location in a seedy commercial district. It was a cyber-café frequented by hackers who operated on the fringe, he had need of their resources. Vila would be surprised to know how many unsavoury places he knew the ins and outs of, places no alphas would ever be found in, places he had needed in the years he spent on the run from Federation Central Security.

He looked at the time indicator on his wristcomm, he had twelve hours left until the deadline.

He entered the dimly lit establishment, light from numerous monitors and holo-screens seemed to provide the only light. There was a steady noise level, anyone listening to the conversations would think they had entered an alien world and in a way they would have been right. Hackers were a law unto themselves, or so many of them liked to think. Avon despised them but had found them useful in the past. They were undisciplined and many had little more than the pretence of genius, as he had proven many times in the past when crashing one of their vaunted hacker duels. He had found it amusing and occasionally mildly challenging.

Avon approached the bar. A thin, bald man in a short-sleeved green shirt was madly manipulating a hand-interface behind the bar. As Avon neared, he recognized the patterns on the screen. It was a high-level dynamic computational puzzle, a simpler version of one he had used for the phase-TD engine research. The figure was wildly inverting itself, the bald man was clearly out of his depth. Nothing he did seemed to make any difference to the object on the screen and he was getting frustrated.

_Amateur _thought Avon _Emotions have no place in the world of patterns and calculations._

Avon picked up a connected hand-interface and input several calculations and coordinates, the figure immediately slowed down and stopped. There was a pause, then it expanded and became a perfect multi-dimensional shape.

The man stared first at screen and then at Avon, he was clearly dumbfounded. There was a look of awe.

"We've been trying to beat that DCP for three weeks!" he waved his hand, indicating the others in the room. "How did you do that?"

"I can put it back."

"No! Don't do that, I've got to study this. The rest of them are going to be blown away. The name's Cracer by the way, I run this establishment."

The man waited, he clearly expected an answering name.

_I don't have time for this_. "I need a terminal with a secure connection to the Federation CompComm network. One which can't be traced," Avon said in a low voice. It was a loaded request, any secure connection which couldn't be traced, would be by its nature, highly illegal. No self-respecting hacker haven would be without one.

The man made a quick survey of the room.

"Follow me."

"I don't have any credits."

"There are no credits among friends. I would consider it an honour."

_I would choose my friends more carefully_ thought Avon.

The owner led him to a locked room in the basement. It held a single terminal. From various devices hooked up to it, Avon could tell that it had been used to break into secure Federation networks. It was exactly what he had been looking for.

"This door can be secured from the inside," the man showed him the coded sequence to the door panel. "Join me for a drink when you're done."

The man had not asked what he needed the secure connection for, Avon did not tell him. He had still not told him his name, it was much safer for both of them if he didn't. Avon had noticed a back exit on their way down the corridor, this man would not be seeing him again.

Avon sat down at the terminal, slipped on the hand-interface and set to work.

There was just barely enough time to make some preparations, an additional safeguard. ORAC, no matter how powerful it was, was still hampered by the command control of the crew of the _Justice_. There was no way to estimate how long it would take the computer unit to find what he wanted and carry out his plan. He needed something else, an alternate fail-safe. He sent out a call to the ASP he had created to contact ORAC; some extensive programming would have to be added.

The _Justice_. _More politics_ he thought contemptuously at the crew's choice of name for the new ship. Would he never be free of people with political agendas. All he ever wanted was to be able to live his own life in peace; all they ever wanted to do was use him. Now he was going to putting himself back into the hands of another of them, the most treacherous and dangerous one.

After his preparations were completed, he began searching for the Federation President's private communications channel. Once he found it, he set about bypassing the encryptions and security protocols. A face appeared on the screen, she appeared shocked.

"Servalan."

"Avon! How did you get access to this channel? It's supposed to be a secure connection." She did not sound pleased, she had been in the middle of a vidscreen conference with Federation Border Zone Command when Avon had broken into her secure channel.

"I'm coming in, as per our agreement."

"Where are you?"

"On Rygellus in Sector Three, the Gilan system."

"Very well. Present yourself to Federation Security headquarters there. I will alert them that you're coming. Give them your prisoner identifier and nothing else."

He nodded and cut the connection. As a last step, he made a duplicate of the ASP and sent them both on their way. With the prototype already in place, this took almost no time at all for him. All he had to do was change the command codes for the second one. It was a strategic redundancy which would give him an additional safeguard. Before he left, he wiped all trace of his activities from the computer.

* * *

With the connection broken, the Federation Border Zone Command group reappeared on Servalan's vidscreen. Several technicians also seemed to be onscreen.

"I'm sorry gentlemen. There was a special communication, it was not a technical fault. Let's have a half hour break and we will resume at eleven hundred standard time."

As they signed off, she called her assistant.

"Corry, contact the Federation Security headquarters on Rygellus, the Gilan system in Sector Three. I want to speak to the area commander there and inform psychostrategist Sester to meet me after my meeting with Border Command."

"Yes, Madame President."

_My dear Avon. You are coming back to me, that is good. But you've made me very angry and you won't like it when I'm not happy with you._

From Sector Three, Avon should be arriving in less than six hours. She smiled. Then the fun would begin. _But no for you Avon._

* * *

"Tell your commander that prisoner A5428 is here."

The nameless Federation functionary behind the desk looked up on hearing the voice, he appeared startled. Immediately he depressed a button. They had been warned to expect this man but he hadn't thought it would be so soon.

"The commander is expecting you."

He looked curiously at the man while they waited. He was on the tall side and was dressed all in black, except for some silver pattern along the sleeves. There was a presence about him which was hard to pin down but made him difficult to ignore; an air of indifferent superiority which marked him as an alpha grade.

_Damned alphas, they think they own the world; but you must have pissed off someone pretty high up that they would make you do this._

There was a rush of activity as a contingent of Federation black-uniformed guards in their anonymous head-gear came in and surrounded the prisoner. The man did not react as two of them grabbed his arms and secured his wrists with a set of restraints.

At that moment the commander arrived, the guards all snapped to attention.

"So you're the one all the fuss has been about?"

The prisoner looked at him absently, he appeared to be bored.

The commander was not pleased, he struck out and hit the prisoner in the stomach. The man doubled over but did not make a sound. The commander was a former boxing champion in the Federation military cage matches, he could still flatten most opponents with a single punch. He had held back this time, the orders were to leave the prisoner alone and to convey him at the fastest possible speed to Central Security at the Primary Spaceport in Sector One.


	3. Chapter 3

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Three

Eight standard days later the DSV was orbiting above Terrus, a neutral trading centre on one of the moons of Carona in Sector Five. Avon had told them that the final part he needed for the anti-detector screen, was a difficult to obtain item which required the services of a special agent. He had not informed them of Servalan's message.

"Do you know anything about this Sevisia?" Argus asked Jenna. They were in the teleport room; Jenna was programming in the coordinates Avon had given her.

"I've heard of him, he has a reputation of being able to get anything, for a price," Jenna replied. "I've never met him though, he's very elusive. I wonder how Avon was able to find him."

Even Vila had heard of Sevisia. "Don't cross him," was his only remark, "the last person to do that, they kept finding parts of him, for years." He shuddered.

"I don't like it that Avon is insisting on going down alone," Argus told Jenna.

"Are you concerned for his safety, or ours?"

Argus smiled wryly, he still did not trust the analyst.

At that moment, Avon entered the teleport room carrying a satchel. He had just come in from the flight deck where he had just directed Zen to make a complete sensor sweep of the entire region, including using the energy draining extra-range sensors, to check that no Federation ships were within range. So far Servalan was following his conditions. He crossed over to the teleport bracelet tray and picked out two; one he placed in the satchel the other he snapped onto his wrist.

"A spare?" Jenna asked suspiciously.

"Precautions," he told her as he stepped onto the teleport pad.

"Are you sure you don't want to bring a weapon with you?" Argus asked.

"Yes," Avon replied. "Sevisia is very specific about his conditions."

Unknown to the rest of them, hidden in his satchel was a standard Federation laser pistol and an area grenade.

This Deep Space Vehicle had its own armoury containing an improved hand gun. It no longer needed to be connected to a bulky power pack attached to a belt unit. The handgun had a small but powerful pulse energy unit which slid into the handgrip. It was advanced technology which Avon had no intention of giving to Servalan if anything went wrong, which was why he was carrying a standard Federation energy pistol.

"Stay by the teleport. Put me down."

As Avon's form shimmered out of view, several things began happening onboard the DSV. Avon's plans had started going into action the moment he disappeared; ORAC was now in full control of the ship.

The battle and navigation computers came online, startling Vila who had been leaning back, dozing at his console. In the teleport room the console outbound coordinates were cleared and outbound controls were locked.

Unknown to the rest of the crew a countdown had begun, ORAC would not release the control of the ship for another three hours, or until Avon had returned safely. If Avon did not request a second return teleport within five minutes of the first, if Federation ships appeared or if the ship came under attack, the ship would leave, regardless of whether Avon was back on the ship or not.

Avon's voice came over the comm system reporting, "Down and safe."

"Argus is something happening over there?" Vila's voice came over the comm system right after Avon's signal; there was concern in his voice.

"We just teleported Avon down to the planet. Why?"

"Something strange is going on. The battle and navigation computers just came online. By themselves, and Zen is not answering any questions."

Argus and Jenna looked at each other.

"Vila, come down here. We need you to monitor the teleport."

Jenna shouted, "Argus look at the outbound coordinates, they've been cleared."

"Avon," Argus called the analyst's wristcomm using the ship's communicator. No reply. "Avon."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Jenna said. She checked the teleport controls. "The inbound controls appear to be working. The outbound ones are frozen."

Vila arrived out of breath. "What's going on down here?"

"Avon is not responding to hails. The teleport seems to be frozen for outbound traffic; so far inbound still appears fine. Stay here and bring Avon up when he calls," Argus directed him.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Vila echoed Jenna's earlier sentiment.

Jenna and Argus hurried to the flight deck but Zen did not respond to any of their requests or commands either.

"Someone has taken over the ship. It's a trap," Argus realized. The only one with a hope of regaining control of the ship had just been teleported to the moon they were orbiting and they were unable to communicate with him.

* * *

The coordinates Avon had chosen landed him in a secluded alcove near the warehouse district of the trading centre. His destination was a building at the end of the street. He stood waiting in the shadows, watching. There was no suspicious movement.

_So far so good._ But he knew he could not afford to let down his guard.

He put the satchel on a ledge protruding from the alcove and opened it; the laser pistol he stuck into his belt, the teleport bracelet he put into his left-hand pocket, the final object, the area grenade, was powerful enough to level half a warehouse.

He activated the grenade and carefully positioned his right thumb over the timer detonation control. He placed this hand inside his jacket pocket while with the other he drew the laser pistol. Everything was ready.

Leaving the alcove, he advanced along the street, his senses on alert. The sun blazed down on the white surface of the road, causing a glare. The street seemed deserted. There was no movement, no sounds; everything seemed dead. The explosion he planned would be satisfyingly loud in the silence.

He entered the warehouse without incident, as with the street, all was quiet inside. Rows of huge packing containers extended out in front of him. The rendezvous point was the large open area by the entrance.

"Servalan," he called out his hated enemy's name; the pistol was steady in his hand.

A rustle of movement broke the silence. The Federation President, resplendent in another trademark white gown came into view from behind a tower of crates; she was flanked by a squad of her black-hooded personal guards.

"Avon."

"Should I be flattered that the Federation President would come to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere to meet me?"

"Only if you were susceptible to flattery, which we both know, you are not."

Avon was in no mood for her games or her false pleasantries. He wanted it to end, one way or another.

He brought out his right hand from his pocket and held up the grenade.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"An area grenade. I imagine that it has been primed?"

"Correct."

"One would think you didn't trust me Avon."

He asked, "Where is she?"

Servalan clapped her hands twice. Two guards appeared from behind another set of crates, they were holding a prisoner between them, Cally. She was dressed in the same prison coveralls from the vizphoto and looked tired but otherwise physically undamaged. Her hands were shackled in front of her.

"Avon!" she reacted in surprise, she had not been told what was going to happen.

Avon looked on impassively.

"Remove the restraints," he ordered.

Servalan nodded to the guards; they removed the restraints.

"Go. You are free my dear," she told the stunned young woman. One of the guards emphasized the point by gesturing with his rifle.

They all watched as Cally crossed the distance to Avon. When she finally stood in front of him, she looked up at his unreadable face and suddenly punched him; not exactly the smartest thing to do considering he was holding an active grenade in his hand, but Avon was a man who was always in control.

"What?" he reacted in mild shock. Cally the former freedom fighter, could pack quite a lot into a single punch. Avon wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

"You left me on Terminal. You didn't even bother to bury my body," she accused him.

If he had buried her, she would not be standing there today but he didn't bother to say it. Nothing would stop his plans.

Servalan watched in amusement, this was something else she would be able to use later.

Without a word, Avon slipped the pistol into his belt and unclipped the teleport bracelet from his wrist. This was a risk. They would be instantly suspicious if he had brought out the other bracelet at this point; he had to get Cally out first. Clipping the bracelet onto her wrist, he activated the comm.

"This is Avon, teleport now."

As Cally shimmered out of view, the black-clad guards surrounded him, their rifles pointed at him. There was a horrible feeling of déjà vu, but this time he had an area grenade instead of a rifle, it evened the odds considerably. Federation guards, even Servalan's elite personal ones, preferred that other people did the dying, not themselves.

He brought the other bracelet out of his pocket slowly.

"Either kill me and we all die, or let me go Servalan, you will not be getting what you want today."

He had planned to release the grenade as he was being teleported out. This was the crucial point, everything else was working. Cally had been rescued; the DSV, ORAC and the rest of the crew were safe. But this was the point where his own life hung in the balance. He knew that Servalan was also not the sacrificial type, which had made the odds acceptable.

"Oh but I will Avon."

He hesitated and looked at her suspiciously, there was a confidence in her manner which made him uneasy.

"If you teleport out, Cally will die in twenty minutes. Only I can stop it."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't need you to, I just need you to watch something," she gestured to a guard. Two men in prison grey were brought in. Avon recognized them, they were from Argus's rebel group. "Do you remember IMIPAK Avon?"

"Yes." He remembered the remote killing device; anyone marked by it could be killed remotely anytime, anywhere. "You didn't get it."

"No, I didn't. Did the rebels tell you about the information they retrieved on Biliar, about the techno-virus?"

"No."

"It's a versatile little virus, one of its properties is that it is programmable, and like IMIPAK, can be activated anytime and anywhere."

She turned to the rebels. "You are free to go."

The men hesitated. "Run before I change my mind." They ran out of the warehouse and down the alley, Avon could see them getting farther and farther away.

One of the guards handed Servalan a control unit, she accepted it and began pressing several buttons. One of the men fell immediately, they could hear his screams as he died. The other man stooped down to check his companion, it was no good. He looked back at the warehouse and ran.

"The other one will die in 60 minutes. I think it will be a painful death or maybe he will just explode, I haven't decided yet."

"You infected Cally," Avon said simply; the demonstration had the effect which was intended. "It's a mistake to presume that I won't let her die to prevent you from getting ORAC or the ship. You know me better than that Servalan."

"Yes I do which is why I will not ask you for the ship or ORAC, I just want you. If you do not surrender yourself to me immediately she will die, in sixteen minutes now. And do not think of using the grenade Avon, if you or I die, I promise you she will also die and painfully. It has already been programmed and no one can prevent it, except me."

He was mystified. What was her reason for doing this? He knew better than to believe her. He needed just one more minute and then the ship would be safely on its way. With a shock he realized the shift in his own thinking, he was trapped and he was not getting out of it.

Servalan guessed what he was thinking, she was enjoying herself. It was clear that Avon still did not understand what was going on. She would keep it that way until it suited her otherwise.

"It is a shame there is such a lack of trust between us, so I will give you an opportunity to contact the ship, if that would convince you. Tell them to leave. I'll wait. Do not try to teleport out though, remember Cally will die instantly and painfully if you do."

The five minute window he had left himself would be expiring within seconds. Under his orders, ORAC would be directing the ship to leave.

"There's no need. I programmed the ship to leave if I didn't come up, they will be gone soon."

"Very clever, if a wasted effort."

He sighed. He had been outmaneuvered. His glare never left her as he surrendered the teleport bracelet to the nearest guard. He did not resist as another guard carefully removed the grenade from his hand, the gun followed. Once disarmed his arms were grabbed and forced behind him as the shackles which had been around Cally's wrists, were fastened to his. They forced him to his knees in front of her and held him there.

Servalan approached and wiped the corner of his mouth which still had blood from where Cally struck him. He was unresponsive but his eyes contained a cold hatred. She smiled down at him.

"What is it about you which makes women want to love you and kill you at the same time Avon?"

"You mean you don't know?" he remarked insolently.

She slapped his face.

She turned and gestured to the guards. "Bring him." Dragging a resistant prisoner, the President's party left the warehouse.

Avon stopped abruptly, refusing to move another step despite the blows from the guards. "Cally. What about Cally?"

"What about her?" Servalan stopped and turned towards him.

"You said that if I surrendered, she would not die, you haven't deactivated the virus."

"That is not quite what I said if you recall. I said that if you did not surrender, she would die in sixteen minutes. I never said that she would not die if you did surrender."

He lunged towards her, an icy anger on his face. "You!" The guards held him back as another one struck him from behind with the butt of his rifle. His knees buckled at the pain. They dragged him back to his feet.

He knew this was part of the game, and for Cally to live he had to play.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Servalan refrained from smiling. She had him exactly where she and Sester had planned.

"If you want Cally to continue living you will keep yourself my prisoner. You will not attempt to escape, you will not kill yourself and believe me, you will want to. You will not try to contact anyone, you will not tell anyone about any of this. The punishment for any of these infractions is instant and painful death for Cally. If any random rebels succeed in freeing you again, you will return yourself to me. From the moment you disappear, Cally will be on a forty-eight hour death sentence until you return. Your freedom for her life, I never lied to you about that. Agree to my terms and I will deactivate the virus."

"You've thought of everything."

"I like to be thorough."

"You will never use the virus on her at all," he added.

Servalan smiled. "Agreed."

"Or any of the crew."

"You are being demanding today. Very well, I will not kill Cally or any of the current crew with the virus as long as you keep to my conditions. Satisfied?"

_There are many other ways to kill them, _she thoughtThe variant of the virus they had infected Cally with did not contain the pacification aspect. She did not want the crew to know that Cally had been infected, and with the pacification ability of the virus, they would have been suspicious.

He looked away from her; the ship was gone, ORAC was beyond Servalan's reach, Cally was safe, the crew would go on without him. Servalan saw his jaw tighten as he struggled with something which was not within his nature. After a year as her prisoner, he had no illusions as to what she was going to do to him.

He took a deep breath, looked directly into her eyes and nodded, "I accept your terms."

Behind them the warehouse they had just vacated exploded.

* * *

"Cally!" Vila exclaimed, as his former crewmate on the Liberator appeared on the teleporter pad instead of Avon. He almost fainted at seeing the ghost in front of him.

"Vila get me a blaster and send me back down on the same coordinates."

"I can't."

"Did you forget to set the outbound coordinates again," she sounded very annoyed as she almost shoved him off the bench and tried to program the coordinates herself. But there was something wrong with the panel, it was not responding.

"Well you're not a ghost", Vila rubbed his sore arm where she had pushed him. "I tried to tell you. The outbound controls aren't working."

"We have to save Avon."

"What's happened to Avon?"

"By now Servalan's got him."

"Servalan? I don't get it. How did you get here? What's going on? What's Servalan got to do with it?"

"Where are Tarrant and Dayna?" She was referring to their former crewmates who had joined them on the Liberator after the alien invasion at Star One.

"They're dead."

She paused absorbing this information, but there were more pressing matters, time to deal with this some other time.

"Who is in command of the ship now?"

"Jenna and Argus. They're on the flight deck."

"Jenna? She's back?" Cally ran towards the flight deck. Vila almost followed her out but remembered that he had to wait in case Avon signaled for teleport. He used the ship's comm instead, "Jenna, you will never believe who came up on the teleport, it's Cally. She's headed for the flight deck now."

For once he was going to be responsible. He did not know that it would be for nothing.

* * *

On the flight deck Jenna and Argus barely had time to react in surprise to Vila's announcement when Cally came rushing down the steps.

"Cally!" Jenna shouted out in surprise, hardly believing her eyes. "Avon found you? That's why he wanted to come to Terrus?"

"No. Servalan found me."

"Servalan!" Argus and Jenna reacted in shock.

"Who is this Jenna?" Argus asked.

"This is Cally. We were together on the Liberator with Blake. She's from the planet Auron," she introduced her.

"What did you say about Servalan?" Argus asked.

"Avon is in trouble, we have to get him out," Cally told them urgently. "Servalan probably has him by now."

"Unfortunately we can't," Jenna told her. "Someone has taken control of the ship. We can't even raise Avon on his communicator."

"He gave his bracelet to me," Cally told them.

"He took two down with him," Jenna told her.

"You can ask ORAC to override Zen."

"Unfortunately we don't have ORAC's activation key anymore and the transmitter which Avon used to communicate with it, he always kept it himself. Plus Avon has locked it on a command code, no one else can use ORAC except him."

"Jenna," Argus called her attention, he pointed to Avon's flight console. The transmitter was sitting on the panel of Avon's operations station.

They stood staring at it uncomprehendingly; Avon never let the transmitter out of his possession, he would never forget something like that; but there it was sitting on his operations console.

Despite the futility of the exercise, the Jenna and Cally tried to activate ORAC with the transmitter, but ORAC remained silent.

"Sometimes I agree with Vila," Jenna told them in frustration.

"About?" Argus asked, he was trying to override Zen from the flight console.

"ORAC is as useful as an empty space."

All of a sudden, Zen spoke as if in response to a command.

"Course plotted and confirmed. Speed standard by twelve."

They could all feel the power of the engines as they jumped into maximum speed.

"Anti-detector screen activated." The device which Avon had been working on began to indicate that it was operational.

"Close range sensors register five ships launching from moon surface. Records indicate they are Federation B-19 cruisers."

Zen activated the view screen.

Vila chimed on the ship's comm channel, "Did we just break orbit? What's going on Jenna? Avon isn't back. We can't leave yet." They ignored him.

B-19 cruisers were capable of time distort ten, which was approximately standard by six, but they had launched too late. At standard by twelve, the DSV would be outside the range of their close-range sensors by the time the cruisers left the moon's gravitational influence.

There were no other pursuit vessels lying in wait, Avon had made sure of that in his agreement with Servalan and she had respected the power of the DSV's sensors, which was why she had been forced to use the B-19 cruisers which were capable of making planet-fall rather than the faster pursuit ships. In addition, in this sector there was no convenient astral phenomenon to hide in, Avon's choice of this particular sector had been deliberate.

As the screen showed the positions of the cruisers, the three stood transfixed, there was nothing any of them could do except wait, they had no control over the ship.

"Hello? Argus? Jenna? Cally? Anyone?" Vila asked again over the ship's comm.

"We're no longer in control of the ship Vila. You might as well come back to the flight deck," Argus told him.

Once the ship was beyond the reach of the cruisers' close-range sensor's ORAC directed Zen to alter their course.

It was clear from the view screen that the pursuit ships were following them on the original course. Soon they flew out of range of even the DSV's long range sensors.

"Avon's gadget works," Jenna remarked. That had been a running joke aboard the Liberator, it came from Vila's comment upon witnessing Avon's advanced detector screen in action for the first time. For a significant scientific breakthrough, it had seemed an inappropriate description and only served to irritate the analyst, which was one of Vila's favorite past-times.

"That means going to Terrus was a ruse all along," Argus noted.

"He took two bracelets down with him," Jenna reminded him. "That meant the whole purpose was to rescue Cally."

"Why didn't Avon tell us?" Vila asked.

As if in response to Vila's question, Avon's image appeared on the view screen. He was wearing the same black jacket and white shirt that he had teleported down to the trading centre with.

"If you are hearing this message that means that I am dead. If I do not initiate the second return teleport within five minutes of the first, ORAC will direct the ship to leave orbit and follow a pre-programmed evasive pattern. To prevent any heroically pointless attempts at rescue, I have instructed ORAC to lock out the Deep Space Vehicle's controls for three hours, from the time I teleport down to the trade centre. Afterwards you can go where you like, but do not come back to Terrus unless you like retrieving corpses. By now, you will also know the real reason why we came to Terrus. Through ORAC, I received a coded message from Servalan eight standard days ago indicating that Cally had not died on Terminal and that she was being held prisoner. I have verified that this information is true. I have taken every possible step to prevent Servalan from gaining ORAC and the Deep Space Vehicle; I have also taken the precaution of bringing an area grenade with me to the rendezvous point. ORAC puts the odds of rescuing Cally as forty-two point zero five. Those are better odds than most things we faced with Blake."

The Avon on the screen smiled, that ironic smile he always had when things threatened to be even more dangerous than they seemed.

The image continued, "I will make sure Servalan will not be gaining anything out of this transaction. The anti-detector screen has been operational for five days. I have also added a new technology based on a variation of the sopron. Vila can tell you about it, if his mind hasn't been pickled with alcohol by now. Or better still," he hesitated before he said,"Cally can tell you. It can be activated by the black button on the anti-detector screen control panel. I have stored instructions on its operation in the ship's computer. I have also released ORAC's command code. Once the last of my orders have been completed in three hours after I have left the ship, you will have full control. That is all."

The screen went blank and redisplayed the star field. There had been no words of farewell. No sentimentality.

They all stood stunned.

Vila had a sense of déjà vu. Something similar had happened once before, when Avon had been tricked by Servalan into going after Blake on Terminal. That had been when they had lost the Liberator, and thought they had lost Cally. At that time the analyst had also tried to safeguard the ship and ORAC by excluding the others and failed. But it seemed that this time he succeeded at the cost of his own life. Vila wanted to scream and get drunk, or get drunk and scream. The order didn't matter.


	4. Chapter 4

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Four

Avon was in the brig of Servalan's Command Vessel One; leave it to the Federation President to have a jail cell on her official craft. He was pacing the short length of the cell as he tried to reason out what had transpired; having his hands bound behind him had limited his movement options.

He was puzzled, there was something he did not understand about what had happened. Servalan knew him too well and she had consistently used this knowledge in the past to try to manipulate and trap him, but there was something different about this time.

He had been outmaneuvered, there was no denying that. No amount of meticulous planning could have anticipated the use of a techno-virus he had been unaware of.

In the past Servalan's goal had always been to obtain a Deep Space Vehicle like the Liberator and the ORAC computer. He had expected some attempt on her part to do just that which was why he had taken such precautions but she had made no such move, made no such demands.

Her objective could not just be him. From his year at the Special Detention Centre, he knew she derived great pleasure in seeing him suffering and in her control but she was never one to be motivated by her amusements. Having him in her possession must give her some advantage he could not yet fathom, he continued pacing.

Other than the original blows on the planet, there had been no further abuse. They had tossed him in the cell and seemed to have forgotten about him. His hands were restrained behind him but they were removed when he was fed. There were no drugs in his food or drink; he did not understand it.

In focusing on this mystery, he was also trying to not dwell on what he had done, what he had agreed to. For all his lack of morality and highly developed cold-blooded instinct for self-preservation, Avon was a man of his word, once he gave it.

He had once told the infamous Centre interrogator Shrinker, "I'm a man of my word. In the end, that's all there is really." He had been referring to his promise to give Shrinker a way out, but of course he had not told him that the 'way out' meant a quick death by suicide.

A man of his word; he had given his word to Servalan and in doing so he had handed her his freedom, the freedom he had fought so long and so hard to keep.

He felt sick, but not defeated. It was a tricky problem, how to regain his freedom without breaking the agreement; fortunately he specialized in difficult problems.

There were various monitors in the cell meaning there could be no movements which would not be observed. He had been put through a search scanner upon boarding the vessel and the tool he normally concealed in the heel of his shoe was removed. He was allowed to keep his original clothes and they were cleaned when he was permitted to shower. This was definitely not the standard prisoner treatment he was familiar with.

There was even a day-night cycle. He could tell that it had been four days since they left the trading centre.

The darkness of the night cycle was taking its toll. Isolated in the cell with nothing but his own mind for company, the nightmares had been inescapable. On the Deep Space Vehicle he had his projects, his research and the distractions from the rest of the crew. On Earth with the rebels, he had poured his energies into escaping; the activity kept him occupied; but here there was nothing.

He applied his mind to solving Servalan's mystery.

* * *

The Federation President was lounging on the bed in her lavishly decorated cabin, reading endless reports from a datapad and observing Avon on a screen which picked up the feed from his cell. She smiled fondly as she watched him pacing, she knew that intelligence like his never rested when there was a puzzle it could not solve; genius could never stop thinking, this was something they were going to use against him. His strengths would be as much his downfall as his weaknesses.

She knew that he still did not know why he was there, had not yet figured out why she had gone to such great lengths to recapture him. He hated not knowing.

Professor Tarkson's knowledge that the analyst was still suffering from nightmares when he was with the rebels, even after the psych drugs had worn off had been of particular use in what they were planning for him.

Servalan had observed Avon's nightmare-plagued nights. Tarkson's analysis had been correct, Avon had never recovered from the shock of killing Blake on Gauda Prime. The torture, psych-therapy and mind-drugs during his year in the Special Detention Centre had made sure of that, if not intensified it. They were going to use this knowledge and with the aid of various psych drugs, would manipulate his mind into intensifying the effects to the point where he would begin slipping into insanity.

The year in the SDC had shown that even their advanced methods had limited effect on him; they could not beat him that way. Sester's psych-strategy was to make him defeat himself. The added advantage of this method was there was a greater chance that his strengths would remain intact when he had been broken. There were risks of course, there always were with these kinds of treatments.

They had planned five scenarios for him, each one drawing on traumatic experiences from his past. Filled out with details from official records and footage, input from Servalan and Cally, each one was designed to delve deep into his psyche to bring out the ghosts of his past.

They would bring him to that brink of madness again and again until he could take no more, and then they would offer him release. Each time he was brought to the edge, when he was at his weakest, they would subject him to a carefully planned conditioning program which was designed to give them some measure of control over him.

They would be careful and patient, their goal was to break and control him without tampering with the prize, his brilliance and his ability to solve any puzzle and get around any problem.

Avon had made a mistake years ago when he boasted to Servalan that he was the only one in the galaxy who could put the Zen computer back together again once it was taken apart; combined with the fact that he was able to recreate the teleport technology on board the Scorpio, and his ability to achieve a breakthrough in the anti-detector screen technology in a few short months, something which the Federation's top scientists and engineers had been working on for over five years before they came to the same point. Avon had also had access to the Liberator's technology and ORAC's research capabilities for three years. The analyst had a mind which thirsted for knowledge and he did not like it when there were things he did not understand. He would not stop until he understood how everything worked; until he could solve all the mysteries. Cally stories about Avon onboard the Liberator had been very illuminating.

The most valuable asset had always been Avon himself, even more than the ship or the computer. He was too dangerous to be a partner, but as a controlled tool, he would be an invaluable asset; Sester had pointed this out after he had reported to the Federation President after the Gauda Prime fiasco, where Avon not only escaped with ORAC, but had somehow managed to obtain a brand new Liberator ship.

Servalan savoured the moment when Avon finally realized the truth, when he realized the only chance he ever had was when he was holding the live grenade.

* * *

"What is this sopron that Avon mentioned in his message?" Jenna asked Vila.

"It's a rock Avon found."

"A rock?" she was confused, it didn't sound promising.

"Well I don't know that much about it, it was Avon's pet project. He dragged me to this miserable planet and all he was after was a rock. He said that it was alive and that it had the ability to mirror whatever was scanning it."

"And how is that useful?"

Cally took up Vila's meager explanation, "When we were trapped by Servalan and left stranded on Kairos while she took over the Liberator, we only had a primitive space craft to work with. It had no weaponry, barely any scanners, and only sub-light engines; but Avon was able to build an artificial sopron, an artificial mirror. When Servalan scanned our craft using the Liberator scanners, they saw mirrored back, another more advanced Liberator. We managed to fool her into abandoning the Liberator and escape on her own ship."

Jenna laughed, "She must have loved that."

Argus, "That trick won't work a second time and it's of no use to mirror a Federation vessel when they know we're not."

"There must have been a reason why he built it," said Cally. "Avon never does anything without a good reason."

The DSV stopped, it had been at standard by six for the past hour, following a pre-programmed evasion program. Avon's limit of three hours had passed.

Zen asked, "Please state speed and course."

"Zen's back." Vila always had a talent for stating the obvious.

They stopped their speculation on the possibilities of the sopron and focused their attentions on the computer's visual interface.

"Zen where are we?" Argus asked.

"The _Justice_ is in sector six at star grid position one five by three nine."

"The _Justice_?"

"Cally and I were discussing names earlier," Jenna said embarrassed. "It just seemed time that we gave it a name. We hadn't decided on one though, Zen must have picked up on it."

"The _Justice_ was accepted," Zen explained.

"That's not fair, you named the last ship," Vila complained jokingly.

"It's a good choice. The focus of this ship is different from the Liberator," Argus agreed.

He addressed the ship's computer, "Zen, full sensor sweep. Are there any Federation ships within range?"

After a few seconds of activity, Zen reported, "Negative. No Federation vessels within detector range."

"Keep the anti-detector screen on. Maintain medium and short range sensor sweeps."

"Confirmed."

"We're in a barren sector of space, not much here; the Federation doesn't have much interest in this area. We can stay here for now until we make some plans. Jenna, check our power reserves."

Jenna went over to Avon's operations station.

"Banks one, two and three are depleted. Bank four is at thirty percent. Banks five through seven are fully charged."

"Alright we'll stay here until the reserve banks are back to full strength. Zen, how long will that take?"

"Forty hours at present power usage"

"Time to check our other asset," Argus said.

"Do we have to? Couldn't we just save ourselves a lot of trouble and dump it out the airlock now?" Vila spoke up. They all ignored him.

Argus took ORAC's transmitter from Avon's terminal and turned it on.

"ORAC," he addressed the computer unit.

There was no response. They all seated themselves around the computer, Argus laid the transmitter on ORAC's case.

Jenna tried as well. "ORAC respond."

Still no response.

"Avon said that he released the command code," Jenna said puzzled.

"The command code. Of course. ORAC, command code gamma two delta three six four. Respond," Argus addressed the clear-cased computer unit.

"Respond to what? Please state a specific request or question and stop wasting my time."

The look on Argus's face was one of astonishment. He was not used to attitude from a computer.

"ORAC are you still monitoring Federation communications traffic?" Jenna asked.

ORAC remained silent. "ORAC?"

"Maybe the aural receptors have been damaged?" Cally remarked.

Argus repeated Jenna's question, "ORAC, are you still monitoring Federation communications traffic?"

"Of course I am, there was no countermand to the original instruction given by Avon."

Jenna asked, "Is there any more news about the move against the rebel group on Earth?"

ORAC was silent again.

"I think it's ignoring you Jenna," Vila told her.

"ORAC, did you hear Jenna's question?" Argus had a suspicion.

"Of course I did. My aural receptors have acuity of…"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it's very impressive ORAC. My question is, why did you not respond to Jenna's question."

"I would think that would be obvious."

"I'm not yet familiar with your operation. Could you enlighten me?"

"Very well. Only the command code source can use this unit remotely."

"Ah."

"That's why no one could use ORAC when Avon had the command code," Jenna nodded her understanding.

"I don't get it," Vila said.

"It's very similar to a ship's override command, it will lock on the first source to use it. Once activated, it will not respond to anyone else using the command code until released."

"ORAC, as the command code source can I order you to respond to anyone else?"

"No it is part of the basic design by Professor Ensor which cannot be altered."

"That makes it limiting. Only one of us can use ORAC at anyone time" Jenna said.

"I volunteer not to be one of those," Vila said.

"ORAC, did you know that Avon was going to Terrus to rescue Cally?"

"Of course I did. Avon's message relayed by Zen already told you I received the original message from Servalan."

"Did he know how dangerous it was?"

"Avon requested the odds of his plan on rescuing Cally."

"And you told him it had a forty-two percent chance of success?"

"It was forty-two point zero five percent to one to be exact. Is it your intention to continually ask questions you already know the answers to?"

"Did he ask you the odds of escaping himself?" Cally asked.

ORAC did not respond.

Argus remembered why and repeated Cally's question, "ORAC, did Avon ask you the odds of escaping himself?"

"Avon did not request those odds."

"Why would he not do that? Avon doesn't do anything unless he knows he has at least a greater than even chance of success," Jenna said _Except at Star One, but that was different._ "Why would he ask the odds about Cally's rescue but not on his own survival? He's not the sacrificial type."

"Maybe he didn't think he needed the odds. Maybe he thought that he had everything under control." Argus said. "He did take an area grenade down with him."

"But why did he exclude us?" Jenna asked. "Doing it alone made it much more dangerous."

Cally took the transmitter from the top of the case and looked at it thoughtfully, "You said that Avon was very possessive about this transmitter, that he always kept it with him?"

"Yes, that's true," Jenna replied.

"I think he already knew the odds," Cally said quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Servalan watched Avon as he sat opposite her across the desk. They were in her private office. She had returned ceremoniously to Residence One; Avon had been brought in under heavy guard through a secret underground passage. Servalan had extensive security precautions built into the Presidential residence since Sula and her rebels had almost staged a successful coup.

Avon looked tired but was his usual impassive self. Ten days in solitary confinement in the brig aboard Command Vessel One had taken its toll.

"You look tired Avon. I trust it was not because of the accommodations?"

He waited, not responding.

"Do you know where you are?" she asked him.

Again he chose not to respond; he would not take the bait. He would not be manipulated by her attempt to bring up the events from his last visit to Residence One.

Servalan smiled and continued, "I've had some interesting additions made to the design of this building since you were last here."

"I have never been interested in architectural design."

"I think you will find these additions very interesting."

"Really," he said, with a distinct lack of interest.

"You can leave if you wish, no one would stop you. I can even have the restraints removed."

Again he did not take the bait. She was looking for some fun, wanting to assert that he was in her control and that he had chosen this path.

"What do you want Servalan?"

"Nothing as yet." She smiled, "I just want you to enjoy the hospitality which only the Presidential Residence can offer." She pressed a button on her desk's control panel. Two of her special guards appeared from a concealed door which had slid open. They pulled Avon to his feet and led him out the way they entered.

Avon had discovered something interesting in the visit to the President's private office, ORAC's activation key was sitting on her desk.

Avon learned what Presidential hospitality entailed. The guards brought him to an underground room of the Residence, with dismay he recognized it, it was the cold, dark cellar in which Servalan herself had once been held prisoner when Sula's rebels had attempted their coup. It was also where Avon found out about his lover's betrayal and killed her. It had been one of the blackest days of his life.

There was a reception committee waiting for him, interrogators from the Federation Special Detention Centre. They had ordered him to remove his clothes and put on the familiar nondescript prison overalls.

Then the torture began, standard beatings designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain and to physically incapacitate him. In between the sessions, he was chained to the wall where Servalan had once been chained. They left him chained and alone, apart from the various security monitors. From this vantage, he was looking directly at the spot where Anna's body lay after he shot her. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes he thought he could see Anna's body.

Sometimes he could even hear her words, "I let you go, my love."

Sometimes he could feel her in his arms as her life slipped away.

Sometimes he could hear Shrinker's mocking voice.

"Bartholomew let you run."

"Anyone you so much as looked at was pulled in."

"Does anyone think you're worth dying for?"

At first he thought that it was a trick being projected by the interrogators but he recognized the images; the level of detail, the things only he knew, they were his own familiar nightmares.

He knew what they were doing by torturing him here and he hated Servalan for it; he had not been able to stop the nightmares, even when he was onboard the Deep Space Vehicle. For a man who did not acknowledge emotions, the events in this cellar had almost destroyed him.

As the days progressed and they steadily and methodically broke his body, he was almost grateful as the constant pain level increased. More and more of his concentration and energy were required to fight the pain from the injuries they left untreated, it served as a distraction from the waking nightmares when he was conscious. Because of the chains, he could not even lie down.

Servalan and Sester were conversing while they watched Avon on the monitor from her private office in Residence One. They were sharing a drink as they were discussing their plans for him.

"It was masterful the way you manipulated him on Terrus," Sester indicated his admiration.

"You mean that your plan worked perfectly. Splitting the trap into two parts and making the first one a blind worked beautifully. From the beginning, he had no idea what was really going on, he still doesn't."

"All in a day's work for a psychostrategist, Madame President."

"How did you know it would work?"

"From my psych profile, one if his primary characteristics is his confidence in his own abilities and his belief in his own instinct for survival. That is why he came, he thought he could save her; and even though his first loyalty is always to himself, he accepts responsibility for his own actions. He made a mistake on Terminal when he left the girl there and he does not like making mistakes. That was the easy part. I was curious how he was going to do it and he didn't disappoint; he would have escaped, if we didn't have the virus as a weapon."

"He is good isn't he?"

"He does have many useful talents."

"I especially appreciated the second stage. It was pure genius."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. We knew Avon would come prepared and that he is very clever. So it was important for him to know that we had outmaneuvered him at each stage."

"Yes, that was very good. He surrendered without knowing that he had gained nothing and he still had confidence he could escape."

"When he finally realized the truth, it was already too late, by then he had already shown us that he was willing to make the compromise. He would never sacrifice his own life for hers but he would trade his freedom for her life, thinking that as long as he is alive, he still has a chance to escape; but we tricked him and he gave up his freedom for nothing. In order to salvage it, he had to accept the agreement. At that point, you could have killed her and there was nothing he could have done about it."

"And so now I own him and it was by his own choice. Did I ever tell you that this will be the second time?"

"Second time?" he asked, not understanding.

"Owning him; I bought him once on Domo."

"The pirate planet? Where they have the slave market? How did that happen?"

"It is a long story. But he escaped before I could claim my property, so you can say that I am just reclaiming what is rightfully mine."

"This is more than just that." _You've been obsessed with him for along time, haven't you? _

"Oh definitely more."

"Zen, magnify," Argus ordered the ship's computer. "I want a visual display of the coordinates where Avon teleported down to."

"Magnifying."

On the screen was an orbital view of the Terrus moon. Magnification increased in stages until they were looking down at the alcove where Avon had arrived on Terrus.

"Zen do a survey of the surrounding area."

"Confirmed."

The perspective on the screen shifted, following the street outside an alcove to a partially bombed out shell of a warehouse.

"Zoom in on the building currently on the screen. Cally, is this the warehouse?"

It was clear to the observers that nothing could have survived the blast. Half the building lay in rubble.

"Yes," Cally said quietly. "He really is dead."

"I'm sorry Cally," Jenna tried to comfort her.

"Zen, are the scanners picking up any Federation vessels within sensor range?" Argus asked.

"Negative."

Argus activated ORAC's transmitter which was still sitting on its casing.

"ORAC"

"What is it?" ORAC asked impatiently.

"Can you tap into the Federation's fleet navigation channels and find out the movements of Command Vessel One?"

"Of course I can."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Can you find out the movements of Command Vessel One?" Argus rephrased the question.

"I have already answered that question. Rephrasing it will not produce a different answer. It is a waste of my valuable time to answer the same question twice."

Argus was not one to frustrate easily, which was a good thing considering he was dealing with ORAC. He changed his statement to a command. "ORAC, find out the movements of Command Vessel One over the past twenty standard days and report."

"That is better. Our association would be less tedious if questions are logical and commands are specific."

The lights in ORAC's unit indicated that the computer was busy.

"If I didn't know any better I would think that it's trying to be difficult," he turned to Jenna.

Vila commented, "Soon you'll be coming over to my side."

Argus grinned. Vila's opinion regarding the annoying computer had never been a secret.

"I have accessed the flight log computers. The registered flight plans of Command Vessel One are as follows: twenty standard days ago, the vessel was docked at the neutral commerce centre of Nislex in Sector Six."

""Nislex is only eight hours from Terrus," Jenna told them.

"Nineteen standard days ago, it left Nislex on a course back to Sector One. Nine standard days ago, it arrived at Earth Central Space Port where it has remained."

"Where is Servalan now?"

"She is currently in Residence One."

"ORAC, is there any indication that Avon is still alive?" Cally asked.

Argus repeated her question, "ORAC, is there any indication that Avon is still alive?"

"I will need some time to find out that information. Security protocols have been increased since the last time I accessed the protected Federation networks. I also remind you that I am constrained by the lack of a cipher unit."

"Alright. How long will it take?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"I guess not." Argus turned the transmitter off.

"Irritating isn't it?" Jenna remarked. "You think Avon may still be alive?"

He looked at Cally and hesitated. He knew his answer would not be one that Cally would like. Even though he had only known her for a few short weeks, Argus knew that Cally was sensitive when it came to the subject of Avon.

"It's alright," Cally told him. "I know it's not likely."

"Why don't we rename the ship, _The Avon_," Vila suggested, then he looked embarrassed.

"Oh yes, I can see Avon loving that," Jenna said.

Several hours later, they were gathered around the computer again.

"ORAC, do you have the report on whether Avon survived yet?" Argus asked.

"Yes. It is highly unlikely that Avon survived. Evidence suggests that he died in the explosion at the warehouse on Terrus. There were no additional passengers reported on Command Vessel One when it left Nislex for Sector One. There have been no unusual movements or communications traffic originating from the Federation President."

"I'm sorry Cally," Argus told her.

"There is one thing I do not understand," Jenna said, "Why did Servalan go to so much trouble just to get Avon?"

Vila told her, "You weren't with us when we went to Terminal, Jenna. Servalan tried something similar then but this time she used a fake Blake as bait. She lured Avon with hopes of finding Blake. Her intention was to force Avon to give up the _Liberator_ but he made the same precautions then as he did this time. He didn't tell any of us what was going on and he ordered us not to follow him."

"But from my understanding you did lose the _Liberator_."

"Yes, but it wasn't Avon. When he realized he had been tricked, he tried to order us to leave but what he didn't realize was that the ship was dying; we had gone through a fluid particle cloud before arriving at Terminal and it was destroying the ship. We couldn't do anything about it, that's why Tarrant gave the _Liberator_ to Servalan. He was hoping to trap her on it as it was destroyed."

"But she got away."

"Yes. That woman has more lives than a cat, a dangerous demonic cat."

"And it looks like she has escaped destruction again. But why would she try the same thing again, knowing from the first time, that Avon would never give her the ship?" Argus asked. Tactically, it didn't make any sense to him.

"That's an interesting question," mused Jenna.

"ORAC, do you know the answer?" Argus asked the computer.

"I do not have enough data to form a conclusion. Why human beings insist on performing the same actions repeatedly and expect a different result is beyond my logical capacity."

"That sounds like an insult if I ever heard one. It must be my imagination but sometimes talking to ORAC is like talking to Avon."

"My opinion exactly," Vila added.

"Alright then we will concentrate our energies on finding out what happened with our group back on Earth. We need to make some plans, I think the _Justice_ should begin living up to its name. We will make the Federation regret what they did to us and to Avon."

They all nodded in agreement.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Avon," a woman's voice softly called his name. Through the fog of agony Avon found it difficult to focus enough to identify the speaker. _Anna?_ He opened his eyes.

It was Servalan, she was bending down over him as he sat propped against the wall, arms hanging from the chains on either side. Hatred fought through the pain as he stared up at her.

"I brought someone here to help you."

A medtech was standing behind her. The guards released him; he groaned from the pain of the movements as they lay him on the ground.

The medtech fused his broken bones and healed his more serious injuries. When he had finished, he injected various drugs into Avon's neck. Until now no drugs had entered his system, other than the supplements and fluid injections to maintain his life. One of the drugs was a mild painkiller, the other Norphel-54, provoked increased mental activity, and a third injection was a mix of various drugs used by the Centre's psych interrogation specialists.

Servalan had wiped the sweat from his face as the medtech tended his injuries. The healing itself was painful but he would never show any weakness before her.

She was helpful, even gentle; her eyes showed her understanding of his pain. He hated her even more. He recognized the look in her eyes, it was the look she had that day in this same cellar when he had killed Anna with his own hands and no longer cared about anything. She had offered him the release of death then.

When the medtech had finished, the guards chained him back to the wall.

With shock, Avon realized what one of the drugs he had been injected with was, as the pain began to dull, but nothing showed on his face. He only stared blankly at the woman who had been watching him.

Servalan smiled, the man never revealed anything but apart from the hatred in his eyes, she recognized something else, something she had been looking for. That haunted look and the pain in his eyes which did not come from the physical wounds.

Things were progressing as planned; the physical torture had done its job. There was nothing like physical abuse to sap a person's strength and help foster a feeling of helplessness, and now with the addition of the drugs, things were being progressed to the next stage.

"I will come and see you again in a few days." She smiled as she turned to go, leaving him once more to the ghosts in the cellar.

Servalan went back to her private office. She watched Avon from time to time over the vidscreen on her desk as she returned to her presidential duties.

It had been eight days since their return from the Terrus trade center. The first two days, holoprojectors had intermittently projected images of Anna into the cellar when he was left exhausted, alone and barely conscious. They found that it had not really been necessary. Professor Tarkson had been correct, the cellar contained its own ghosts. The atmosphere, the smells and the sounds were much more effective than any illusion the holoprojectors or even any induced hypno-visions could have produced; in this atmosphere, he was being tortured by his own mind.

She was fascinated by the prospect of manipulating a mind into tearing itself apart; the power was intoxicating. She had always considering Avon a playmate as they had sought to destroy each other over the past five years, each was a mirror image of the other. The games were deadly. Their attraction was undeniable, even as they tried to kill each other; but his hatred for her went deep and he was far too dangerous for her to ever allow him to live, unless she could control him and she had discovered that he was much too valuable to be allowed to die.

* * *

The news had been bad, the WED group had virtually been wiped out. They had not been able to contact a single member of their group.

Jenna and Argus were nursing drinks in a darkened booth in the Sol Tapis bar in the West Europe Dome on Earth. From their vantage point, they could observe a bakery at the far end of the huge Paris commerce square.

"This one too, you were right."

"Damn," Argus exclaimed under his breath as he kissed her. They were pretending to be a romantic couple.

"That's the fourth one."

Each of the emergency contact points they had visited in the last four days was being observed by Federation secret security forces. The observers were not obvious but there was a distinct lack of uniformed presence. In a society as heavily regulated and watched as the Federation, this in itself was distinctly odd.

This meant that Federation interrogation had already broken enough members of their group that all of their emergency procedures had been compromised. It meant that even if some of the rebels had escaped capture, it was too dangerous to contact them, they would most likely be walking into a trap.

Using Avon's advanced anti-detector screen, the crew had entered the neighboring sector undetected. Argus and Jenna had then taken the fast scout shuttle to the Varb financial centre. Posing as a couple, they had boarded a tourist liner bound for Earth. Their goal had been to check the emergency contact points set up in case of a disaster, such as this.

"We even lost Doctor Alberay."

From reports gleaned by ORAC and their own investigations in the West Europe Dome, they had been putting together a picture of the last days of their rebel alliance group. The doctor had been killed by Federation troops, he had taken a shot in the leg and was covering the retreat of other members of the group from their primary safe house when he was killed.

It had been a simultaneous precision strike by Federation forces, the assault had been swift and devastating. The most damaging had been the loss of the rebels who were part of Federation Landforce Command; a purge had taken place in the weeks following the take-down.

Fortunately there were still a handful of key command contacts in other Federation Elite Forces who were only known by Argus. With the current state of affairs it would be along time before they could risk contacting any of them.

"It's hard to believe that a single ASP virus could gather enough information to cause this much damage. It would mean that they had been watching us for along time, they must have known that we were the ones who freed Avon. Why didn't they attack earlier?"

"You still don't trust him, do you?" Jenna asked Argus.

"It's going to be a long time before I do and he doesn't make it any easier."

Even though he had only known him for a short time personally, Argus knew he did not like Avon. It was not just because of his preconceptions of him from Jenna and Vila and the knowledge that he killed Blake; like Vila, Argus did not trust people who were too smart for their own good. _But at least he is only self-serving, that at least is simple. _After serving in the Federation's ranks most of his life, the people whom he hated the most were those who were self-serving and felt that they had every right to use and sacrifice others to further those interests.

"He has that effect on people."

"We should spend the last two days doing the tourist thing. If we appear at more contact points, it will look suspicious."

* * *

"It's hard to believe he's gone," said Cally as she sat with Vila in the central meeting area on the flight deck of the _Justice_.

"I know what you mean," Vila said. "I even miss the insults."

"No you don't."

"No I don't."

They had been trying to distract themselves by playing a card game but neither had the heart. Instead they were throwing the cards at a container sitting on one of the information consoles.

Cally said, "What you told the others about Terminal. You didn't tell them that it was Avon who forced us to go through the particle cloud that eventually destroyed the _Liberator_."

Vila looked uncomfortable. "I didn't."

"Why did you do that, Vila?"

"Because of what he did for you. I didn't want them to know that. Avon thought he was doing it to save Blake then. Just like he risked everything to go down to save you. I couldn't have them think that of him. Especially now that he's died trying to do the same thing."

There was a period of silence as they both recalled the events of those stressful days; how Avon had acted erratic and strange throughout, even for him. First threatening them and then trying to save them; risking their lives and then telling them to abandon him at the first side of trouble. It was confusing to remember it, even now.

After awhile Vila said, "You know, things were really bad between Avon and me before Gauda Prime."

Vila told her about the autoshuttle incident. When it appeared that death was imminent and the only way to survive was to lighten the vessel before they crashed and there was nothing else to throw out, Avon had come looking for him. ORAC had told him that Vila had the necessary weight to be jettisoned but in the end it hadn't been necessary because Avon found a different solution. Things between them had never been the same after that, their constant insults of each other had taken on a bitter edge on Vila's part.

"But then sometimes he does something like this. I don't get it."

"No one does, Vila. I wonder if even Avon does. Vila, you mentioned Gauda Prime? What is that?"

"Oh, I forgot. You wouldn't have known about that." Vila looked troubled.

"Vila, what happened?"

Vila hadn't thought about the events of that day since Professor Tarkson had helped him sort out the memories Servalan and the Federation had fed into him, from what really happened. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember.

"It's not pretty."

"Vila."

"Alright." He began telling her what happened.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"No," Avon shook his head and then closed his eyes, it did not help. The nightmares were there whether his eyes were open or closed, he could not stop them. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally; he could feel his mind slowly slipping towards madness.

"No!"

It had been half a day since the interrogators had last worked on him. He wanted them to come back, at least when he was being beaten, the ghosts stayed away. He shivered in the coldness of the cellar.

* * *

"He's ready for the next stage," the psychostrategist told Servalan, they were seated in an anteroom just off her private office. He had been monitoring Avon's treatments carefully since they captured him; that had been twenty-eight standard days ago.

"We will start putting some of the conditioning in place, the drugs have been very effective."

"Are you sure they will not damage his mind?"

"Yes, as long as we stop now. If we allow it to go on any longer, he will go mad. Norphel-54 makes his mind race so that he can't stop. Keeps him mentally exhausted but constantly needing to exercise his mind. The neural restorative drug prevents his brain from burning out. It's a natural extension of his personality, but magnified to the point where it becomes destructive. Even when the drugs are removed, his mind is already being conditioned to work at a heightened pace. The psych drugs keep him disoriented and unable to focus, another drug makes it impossible for him to sleep. Each time we bring him to this point again, the conditioning will continue to deepen until the point where he will literally work himself to death because he cannot stop. That's where we step in, we will become his control. When the triggers have been implanted we will be able to turn this state on and off at will."

"He lasted much longer than Tarkson thought he would," Servalan remarked.

"Yes, he is exceptional, otherwise he wouldn't be here." They both greatly respected the mind of the man they were so cold-bloodedly planning to control.

"He knows what is happening to him?"

"At this point, his mind is barely hanging on. When he starts to recover, he will most likely begin to suspect; but he knows he can't stop it. He must hate you."

"We're both used to that."

* * *

"Avon," a woman called out his name. Avon did not respond.

Avon felt the guards releasing him from the chains, he opened his eyes wearily.

It was Servalan, trying to be helpful again.

"It's time for you to rest Avon."

A medtech knelt down beside him and injected something into his neck. Avon felt his mind relaxing; exhaustion took him. He closed his eyes.

"He should be able to sleep now." The medtech told her.

"You know where to take him?" she asked the guards.

"Yes Madame President."

She watched as they lifted the analyst to his feet and carried him out.

The cellar had done its job. She looked around, other than the fresh stains of blood, it was exactly as she remembered it. This place also held unpleasant memories for her; she turned her back to it and left.

* * *

Back in her private office, Servalan reflected on Avon, the look in his eyes. She recognized it; it was the same look he had after he killed Anna, after his lover's betrayal had just ripped out the heart no one suspected he had.

Servalan had looked into the eyes of men being tortured to death before, but his were the eyes of someone whose soul was in torment.

"You really think I care?" he had asked her that day as she pointed Anna's gun at him while he crouched beside his dead lover's body. At that point, the man who cared for no one other than himself did not care about anything anymore and they had brought him to that point again.

* * *

Argus, Jenna, Vila and Cally were seated in the command assembly area on the flight deck of the _Justice_, they were listening to ORAC's report on news from Sector Ten, the sector where Jenna had spent a year undercover working to unite the independent warlords there.

Argus and Jenna had returned from their fact-finding mission on Earth and they were trying to plan their next course of action.

"Federation Freedom News Channel reports that Gaverin Three and Tysis have joined the empire in the last three weeks. Federation officials state that they received petitions of membership from both worlds. The Athol Territories are moving towards civil war since the assassination of the overlord. His three sons are accusing each other of the death of their father. Their respective troops are currently massing for battle. Other independent warlords in the region are being sought for support."

"Alright ORAC, those are the news reports from official public Federation news channels. What about the other, unofficial channels?" Argus asked.

"Am I to assume that your reference to 'other unofficial channels' refer to the coded ones which I am unable to access due to the lack of a cipher machine? A deficiency which I believe I have mentioned on numerous occasions?"

They were all acutely aware of the loss of Avon's ability to successfully remove a cipher machine and adapt it in order gain access to Federation coded communications traffic.

"How about the Federation Central computers then?"

"You are not seriously asking me to break into the entire Federation Central Computer Complex. There are currently one thousand two hundred and eighty three separate linked systems within the Federation Central computer complex. The majority of which are protected by various levels of security protocols. Please be precise as to your requirements and stop making ridiculous demands."

"Which one would be the fastest for you to gain access to and would provide the information we require regarding the real situation in Sector Ten?"

The lights in ORAC's unit indicated it was operating.

"The peripheral computers of Federation Border Systems Command network are the most accessible within a reasonable period of time."

"Define reasonable period of time."

"Within two standard days."

"That's not my definition of reasonable, ORAC."

"It is my definition of reasonable given that the information you are requesting is classified and by only accessing the peripheral computer systems I will have to do some extensive extrapolation to obtain the information you requested. If you insist on occupying my time with additional pointless questions and requests, it will take three days."

"Alright, alright, get to work ORAC. Get the information requested and we'll stop bothering you."

Argus turned the transmitter off.

"Whew. ORAC is definitely being difficult."

Vila was grinning at him.

"Alright who wants to take the next turn with ORAC?"

"Not me," Jenna replied, a little too quickly.

"You're the commander," was Cally's reply.

"Don't look at me," Vila would not stop grinning, "I already told you what to do with it. Avon was always the best one to deal with ORAC. I think it only tolerated the rest of us because of him. I mean Avon was very computer-like himself."

"Thanks. It's great to know you're all behind me," Argus told them with a sigh.

Jenna turned serious, "This is terrible news, I spent a year in Sector Ten; working with one of the warlords there. We had even started building a rebel base on Athol Prime. We have to find out what happened. The overlord, Feltar Reve was an honourable man, the other warlords respected him. His sons were all highly ambitious but they loved the old man, I do not believe any of them would have assassinated him and it now sounds like they are pulling the entire Sector into their civil war."

"Since ORAC is busy, Jenna, is there a secure way you can find out if any of your contacts in Sector Ten are still responding?"

"I did set up some emergency contact protocols but we have to go to Sector Ten. They are personal contact protocols."

"With Avon's anti-detector screen, entering the Sector should be easy enough. We should also map out some exit contingencies."

"There's something else I don't get," Jenna said.

"What's that?"

"Gaverin Three and Tysis, they would never have joined the Federation, at least not willingly."

"That's just Federation propaganda," said Cally. "We don't know the real story."

"I know the warlords of those two planets. They would never have given up without a fight and they had some of the best fighters outside of Feltar's forces. I cannot believe they fell so quickly, they were already given the antidote to the pacification drug."

"What about that virus you had me steal information about on Biliar?" Vila asked.

"Of course! Vila, you're a genius!" Argus exclaimed. He had almost forgotten, Biliar had seemed like such a long time ago and he avoided thinking about the aborted Singoa mission to the Advanced Federation Medical Research Centre which had ended up in his own capture.

"I am?" Vila reacted in surprise at the unaccustomed phrase being used to describe him. "Of course I am," he said under his breath.

"That should be our next priority after finding out what is happening in Sector Ten,"

* * *

"From cross-referencing troop reports, resource allocations and various civilian uncoded sources, I have put together a picture of the events which have transpired in Sector Ten over the past two standard months. The accuracy is within a tolerance of seven point two five" ORAC started its report.

They were all seated in the command assembly area again.

Argus had reluctantly turned on ORAC's transmitter.

"Federation Assault Groups Two and Fifteen landed on Gaverin Three and Groups Six and Seven on Tysis. This was fifty three standard days ago. There were reports of minor skirmishes but there were no major military actions on either planet. Within two standard weeks, both planets sent petitions of sub-membership to the Federation High Council."

"That's impossible" Jenna exclaimed.

ORAC continued, "The overlord of the Athol Republic, Feltar Reve was found dead in the bedroom of his private residence. He had suffered several severe stab wounds to the chest. There were no security 

cameras in the bedchamber. Consequently, it was concluded that the warlord was killed by someone who knew him and who knew that there was no security camera presence in the bedroom. All of Feltar Reve's sons either had no alibis covering the period of his killing or had suspicious alibis."

"Very convenient," remarked Cally.

"Thank you ORAC. Continue to gather as much information you can regarding this. I especially want to know how the Federation forces were able to subdue Gaverin and Tysis so quickly," Argus instructed.

"That will require accessing more secured systems, this will take time."

"I understand that but we need the information. Go ahead."

Argus turned the transmitter off.

"If what you are saying about the virus is true and they have used it on Gaverin Three and Tysis, and then it will not be safe for us to go there," Cally told Argus. "We don't have the antidote. There may not even be an antidote."

"There's got to be one. Someone's got to have one," said Vila. He was not liking this talk of a virus that they did not have an antidote for. "I'm volunteering my services to steal it, once you've found out where it is that is."

"Volunteering? Are you turning over a new leaf Vila? I've never heard you volunteering for anything before," Jenna teased him.

"I mean let's get the antidote first before we go gallivanting off to any infected planets."

"Why didn't they use the virus on all the planets in the sector?" Cally wondered.

"Gaverin Three and Tysis were probably test planets for the new virus. The Federation likes to use live subjects whenever possible," Argus told them. As a former commander in the Federation Elite forces, he had seen too many examples of Federation's callousness.

"Even with the virus, they still need the Federation's military forces to complete the takeover of the planets. The Assault forces are stretched to the limit. Federation military has not yet regained their original strength from the alien incursion at Star One. It will still take many years to build troop and ship strength back up, that's why they are depending on strategies like the pacification programs and political intrigue. The security forces are back up to full strength though, they had to do that in order to keep order over the territories they still control."

"We have to hit them hard now before they are able to build back up." Jenna had learned a lot about rebel tactics while fighting alongside Blake.

"Yes we need to," Argus agreed. "Since the political intrigue strategy is being used on Athol, it is safe to assume that the pacification drug is not being used there and they are relying on the civil war to weaken the warlord armies there and wreck enough havoc that the civilian populations would welcome Federation assistance. We'll make contact on Athol."


	8. Chapter 8

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Eight

Sixteen days later, the _Justice_ was in stationary orbit over Athol. Avon's anti-detector screen was functioning perfectly.

Argus, Jenna and Cally were in the teleport room, making preparations to go down to the planet. Argus checked the pulse gun which was hidden inside his jacket and the one holstered at his waist, Jenna and Cally were already wearing theirs.

Argus stepped onto the teleport platform.

"Stay awake Vila," Argus told the thief. "Put me down." Argus was going down first to ensure everything was safe and provide cover for the other two.

Vila activated the teleport. Once the rebel leader disappeared from the teleport pad, Jenna entered the next set of coordinates into the panel.

"Down and safe," Argus reported over the ship's comm. "Give me five minutes."

As they waited, Cally asked, "Are you sure of this man Jenna?"

"Yes, Olean Rane was Feltar's chamberlain; he was also his lieutenant when Feltar was forging his empire, he trusted him even more than his own sons. Rane has a fondness for me since I foiled an assassination attempt on the overlord while I was there."

"And this place where we're going to meet him?"

"It's an inn that he likes to frequent. Not many people know he goes there, it's run by a close personal friend of his."

"If not many people know, how is it that you do?" Cally asked curiously.

"You don't need to know that," Jenna's tone did not invite further inquiry along that line.

Jenna sat down on the steps as they waited. Cally rechecked her gun.

"Feltar was a good man," Jenna told her. "I respected him a great deal. He was the only one who could keep the other warlords in line. He had a reputation for being ruthless but he was an honorable man."

"What about his sons?" Cally asked.

"The sons," her face took on a pensive look, "the sons are another matter. They are ruthless too. They're smart and capable, especially the youngest son, but they're without honor."

"A dangerous combination."

"All clear," Argus finally reported over the ship's comm system.

Jenna and Cally crossed over to the platform.

"Put us down Vila and don't forget to stay awake."

"Everyone's always telling me to stay awake," Vila grumbled as he activated the outbound controls. Once the two disappeared he went back to the flight deck.

"Zen, follow the pre-set course and park us behind the moon."

"Course programmed and confirmed. State speed."

"Standard speed."

"Confirmed."

Vila crossed over to the command assembly area and sat down. He poured himself a drink from a bottle he had placed there earlier.

"They said stay awake; no one said anything about not drinking." He settled in for a long wait. The next communication was not due for four hours.

* * *

It was the night cycle on this side of Athol Prime, Jenna and Cally entered the busy inn and sat at a corner table. A nearby artificial fireplace cast long shadows along the walls, a staircase led up to the second floor where the inn's guest rooms were situated. A darkened doorway behind the bar led to the back of the inn.

"Ale," Jenna ordered from the barmaid who came over to serve them.

"Just water," Cally said. The server looked at her strangely then walked away muttering under her breath.

"We're trying to blend in," Jenna told the woman, "you can't blend in with water."

"Aurons don't take well to alcohol."

"At least order something to eat."

"Alright, if you feel it is necessary"

When the barmaid returned with their drinks, Cally asked, "What do you have in terms of food items?"

"At this hour, all you get is stew."

"That's fine. We will have two portions of stew."

The server walked away, she was muttering to herself again. "Offworlders."

"Do I look like an alien?" Cally asked, puzzled by the woman's attitude.

Jenna laughed. "Look like an alien? No. You just act differently. I didn't see Argus outside."

"He wouldn't be any good if we did see him. Do you see your contact?"

"Not yet but he's here somewhere."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't see the owner, she's usually behind the bar."

They had finished their stew and the barmaid was in the process of clearing the table when a woman appeared from the dark doorway behind the bar. She was a beautiful full-bodied woman with shrewd eyes, several patrons greeted her as she took up a position behind the bar.

She was obviously a popular character, they called her Lelea. The woman noticed Jenna right away and nodded in recognition.

Jenna told Cally, "It won't be long now."

After a few minutes, Lelea motioned them to go through the darkened doorway.

They got up and followed her directions, proceeding through the doorway and down a long dimly lit corridor. At the end was a closed door, Jenna pressed the intercom buzzer.

"Come in," a reply came from inside the room.

The door slid open and they stepped into the dimly lit room.

"Don't they believe in lights here?" Jenna asked the occupant of the room.

"I've been expecting you," the man had his back to them. He was watching a bank of monitors; Jenna noticed that one of them was trained on the table they had just vacated in the inn, another showed the corridor outside the door they had entered from. A hand blaster lay on top of the bank of monitors within easy reach of the man who had just greeted them.

They were standing in a living room area, a closed door led to what was probably the bedroom. The décor had a simple but distinctly feminine touch and indicated that its owner was a person who loved connections to the past. It was in stark contrast to the security monitors and control panels which the man was seated at.

The man turned around, Cally noticed that he was of average height and had a lean build. There was nothing else average about him, he moved with the fluidity of the mountain cats which populated the wilds of Auron. There was an air of strength about him. His hair had streaks of grey and he had a thin scar which ran along the left side of his jaw. His eyes were intelligent and penetrating; his face was normally hard, but seeing Jenna, it softened. He smiled.

"How are you doing old soldier?" Jenna asked him fondly.

"Good, considering the circumstances"

"This is Cally, she's a friend. I trust her," Jenna indicated her companion.

"You're welcome here Cally."

"Thank you."

"This is Olean Rane," Jenna introduced him; "He's a stubborn old soldier and a lifelong womanizer."

"And those are my good points," Rane said jokingly.

"I'm sorry to hear about Feltar," Jenna told him, "I was shocked."

He nodded. "I suppose you're here for news?"

"Yes and I'm here to deliver news."

"Well make yourselves comfortable then," He gestured them towards a set of couches. "I have whiskey around here somewhere and some water."

For the next hour, he told them about the situation in Sector Ten and the Athol Territories in particular.

"No one really knows what happened on Gaverin Three and Tysis. There appears to be a total communications blackout except along the secure Federation channels, which we don't have access to. No one understands how they fell so quickly."

"We may have an explanation for that." Jenna told him about their suspicions regarding the new virus.

"Then the Pylene-50 antidote is useless."

"I'm afraid so. But that hasn't been confirmed. That is our next step when we leave here." Jenna hesitated then asked, "What happened to Feltar?"

"He was murdered in his bedroom right after the evening meal. The bedrooms are the only areas which do not have security cameras. He was stabbed in the chest by a thin laser dagger, an assassin's weapon. Feltar was normally too careful to allow anyone close enough to him to strike with a blade unless he trusted them. The investigators concluded that he knew his attacker and the killer was familiar with the security setup in the building."

"And his sons are suspected?"

"Yes."

"What do _you_ think?"

"Things have been deteriorating for a long time between the boys. There are rumours of problems concerning a woman. Feltar was very angry. Unfortunately, I was out along the border trying to sort out some problems there. I hurried right back, but it was too late. I've been trying to find out the truth but unfortunately that is not the priority now."

_It's too bad Avon isn't here; he would probably have been able to figure out what really happened._ Cally was thinking of the time she and Avon were on the ship _Destiny_. There had been a murder and a mystery onboard when Blake agreed to help the Destiny colonists. Cally had never seen Avon so interested in people before, even if they were incidental to the solving of the puzzle.

"You think civil war is inevitable then?" Jenna asked Rane.

"It's too late to stop it now. Believe me, I've tried. They've caused a split among the armies and it looks like they're trying to do that with the rest of the warlords but so far, they've left me alone. I've been able to keep things running, but it's only a matter of time. Whichever of them wins, will take over Feltar's position."

"Do you think any of his sons are capable of killing him?"

"I watched them grow up, I can't believe that anyone of them would have murdered him. I knew that they were ambitious and that there would be trouble eventually, but as long as the old man was alive, they would never have done anything. They loved and respected him too much."

"How many people knew that?" Cally asked. So far she had remained silent, listening intently, not interfering in the conversation between the two friends. "How many people knew that Feltar was the only one keeping them from their ambitions?"

"You mean," Rane started then stopped.

"It is too convenient for anyone wanting to bring about civil war," Cally told them her thoughts.

* * *

Kam, Ellis and Borel. Over the next six standard weeks, the crew of the _Justice_ got to know the sons of Feltar Reve very well. Kam, the oldest of the sons, had the backing of some of the most respected and powerful families in the Athol Territories. Ellis, the middle son, was the shrewdest and the most devious, he had the backing of some of the most powerful warlords in the sector. Borel, the youngest, was a brilliant military strategist who had served with distinction in the Athol Border Defense Force and had their full backing.

* * *

The _Justice_ crew was reconvening in the command conference area on the flight deck to discuss the results of their actions, Olean Rane had joined them. They discussed the rapid progression of events which were leading towards chaos and the ineffectiveness of their own plans.

After two hours Vila had had enough, "All of this political intrigue gives me a headache. I'd almost rather deal with ORAC."

"You're not the only one Vila," Argus sympathized. He was a military man, more used to strategic maneuvers than plots and conspiracies. "Does that mean you're volunteering to take the next shift with ORAC?" he asked jokingly, knowing full well the thief's answer.

"I said almost."

They were all frustrated. It seemed that civil war was inevitable. They had watched helplessly as all of the planets in the sector allied themselves with whichever son they felt offered them the most advantages and had the greatest chance of winning. Appeals to each son by Rane and Jenna had produced little result other than an unwelcome one. The _Justice_ crew had become a focal point of political intrigue as each side tried to influence them to their side. They concluded that it was better staying out of it.

Rane got up, "I have to get back. Thank you for doing what you could."

"Unfortunately, it wasn't enough," Jenna said with disappointment on her face.

"The die was cast along time ago, Jenna. I tried to warn Fel, but you knew him, he thought the competition would bring out the best in them. Unfortunately it brought out the worst."

"But at least they respect you enough that they would not try to take control by force."

"Yes, they would rather kill each other and destabilize the entire Sector, but they will leave the organization of government alone," he said sarcastically.

"If the situation does blow up," Argus addressed Rane as they entered the teleport room, "you are welcome to join us."

Jenna refrained from saying that using 'if' was being optimistic.

"I am honored by your offer Argus but I can't leave Athol," Rane replied. "I owe it to Feltar and our people to try to salvage what I can when that happens. I will try to keep Athol out of the hands of the Federation."

Argus nodded, he understood loyalty.

"But you could to do something for me," Rane added, "you need to find out what really happened on Gaverin Three and Tysis. If the Federation is using a new virus in place of Pylene-50, you need to find the antidote. Otherwise no matter what I do, we will fall to them in the end."

"You have my word," Argus answered.

Jenna handed Rane a teleport bracelet and clipped one to her own wrist. They both stepped onto the platform.

"Send us down Cally."

They reappeared back in Rane's rooms at the Athol Palace, where he had been transported from hours earlier.

"We will find the antidote," Jenna promised him as he handed her back the teleport bracelet. "Don't get yourself killed old soldier. You're not young anymore you know. And you still owe me." She hugged him.

"You're never going to let me forget that are you?" Rane said affectionately.

"No. I'm not."

"And you take care of yourself too. Otherwise you won't be able to collect."

Jenna smiled as she pressed her wristcomm, "Cally take me up."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Sester entered the control booth in one of the conditioning rooms. The specialist medtech at the panel turned to him and reported, "It's been twenty-two hours, sir."

"He's still fighting it?"

"Just barely now, it won't be long."

On the other side of the control booth, hooked up to a conditioning unit was Avon. Overwhelming signals were being driven into his brain. This was his third session in the Criminotherapy Unit at the Special Detention Centre. He had been brought here after his session in the cellar of Residence One and after his time in the building where his brother had been killed.

Avon did not remember either of his previous visits to this place. Each time he was heavily sedated when brought to the Criminotherapy Unit for treatment, then they would wake him up to the full effects of the active conditioning unit. Afterwards a mind block would be placed so that he would not remember what had been done or that he had been at the Centre.

He had woken to the overpowering voices of Servalan and Sester blasting in his ears, repeating the same phrases over and over; along with the conditioning and disorientation drugs and the visual stimuli, the effect was like being battered, except that it was being done to his mind. Most people in his state would have succumbed to the shock by now but after a few minutes of disorientation, Avon fought and was continuing to fight.

"No!" Avon shouted in anguish, his voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper now. He struggled weakly against his bonds but it was no use, the voices were merciless. His mind raced.

Sester reminded the technician, "Keep monitoring his brain patterns carefully. I don't want him to burn out."

"Yes sir."

Along with the conditioning drugs, Avon was being fed a controlled stream of the same drug they had been pumping him full of to induce heightened mental activity, but at a much milder dosage. Alternating it with a mind relaxant when applying the trigger for him to rest, they were implanting the controls.

At twenty-two hours Avon should no longer have enough strength left to fight but they were patient. No matter how strong the mind, everyone succumbed eventually; there was no choice. It was like being physically beaten non-stop by overwhelming forces. At first you fight, but sooner or later, even if you still have fight left in you, you are too beaten up to resist the blows.

"Once he stops fighting, give him another eight hours in the unit then apply the mind block. Sedate him for four hours to give him some sleep, and then give him a low dose of the Norphel-54, and a low-dose stimulant. Have the guards take him to the cell that has been prepared for him in sub-level three, then inform me."

"Yes sir."

It was almost time for Sester to make his appearance and like Servalan, he would also be helpful. Between alphas, things were always cold-bloodedly polite, even when they were ripping each other's throats out.

Avon gained consciousness slowly, he had a headache. With a shock he recognized his all too familiar surroundings, a Federation detention cell. It may have been the same one which was his home for almost a year, it was hard to tell, Federation detention cells everywhere looked the same.

He was lying on a hard sleep platform. The harsh lights overhead aggravated the pain in his head. Avon rolled his body to face the wall in an effort to avoid the light. He groaned, his body hurt from too many torture sessions. He moved his hands to cover his eyes, they were manacled but at least they were not bound behind him. He knew it was not a humanitarian gesture, his tormentors never did anything without a reason.

Avon was confused, his restless mind tried to fathom the mystery, trying to distract himself from the ghosts he knew would eventually come. By now, even in the brightness of the cell, if left too long alone, the waking nightmares would begin. Each scenario they had subjected him to had added to them.

There had been no questions; tortured, drugged, isolated, forced to relive nightmare after nightmare and they hadn't asked him a single question or coerced him to do a single thing. If they had, there would be something to fight against, something for him to focus his defiance, to plan against; but it was just one relentless assault after another for no apparent reason.

They had gone to a lot of trouble to set up the scenarios, but he realized that they were not doing anything more than his own mind had already been doing to him. What they were doing was intensifying it to the point that it was driving him into madness. He was very aware that he was losing control of his own mind and he could find no reason for all of this effort other than Servalan's sadistic desire to break him for her own enjoyment.

_So it's come down to this._

The cell door slid open.

Avon gritted his teeth against the pain as he shifted his body to face the door. A familiar face, Sester. He had not seen the psychostrategist since the time on Gauda Prime when Avon and the rebels had escaped from a Federation trap after retrieving ORAC.

_More games. _

He tried to lift himself to a seated position but the pain and his general physical weakness made it impossible. Sester helped him up.

The psychostrategist sat down on the chair which had been brought in by one of the guards.

Avon leaned back against the wall, looked up impassively at the man and waited. Sester was always polite, even when having him tortured.

"It's good to see you again, Avon."

"Is it."

"You got me into a lot of trouble with the President by escaping the trap on Gauda Prime."

"Really? You surprise me."

"I enjoyed the game."

"With Servalan? That must be almost as fun as being tortured."

Sester smiled.

"What do you want Sester?" Avon asked.

"Nothing as yet."

_That's what she said._

Avon knew there was something they wanted and he knew that he was not going to like what they planned for him, but it was not finished yet.

"Do you enjoy doing this?" the analyst asked.

Avon's question shocked him, it was personal. Sester knew what was really being asked. He thought carefully before answering, he had too much respect for this man to lie to him but at the same time he had to keep the goal in mind.

Avon waited, a slightly amused look on his face.

"I enjoy the game," Sester replied, repeating his prior sentence.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know."

Avon stared at the psychostrategist. "Do what you came here to do."

Sester sighed and spoke the trigger phrase, "It's time to work Avon." Avon did not react, his conscious mind did not register the implanted phrase.

Avon was tired, his head was still throbbing, he rubbed his left hand restlessly.

"Did you come for a reason or is this just a social visit?"

Sester was silently making notes of Avon's physical symptoms as he continued their conversation; the increased restlessness, the nervous habit of rubbing his hands and wrist, the increased expenditure of energy despite the fatigue and the increased rate of breathing.

The conditioning was progressing as planned, the psychostrategist's goal this time was not to test its limits but to introduce the release.

"You've been cooped up so long, I thought you might like a diversion."

"Another game?"

"Unless you prefer the empty cell."

Avon hesitated. The longer he could keep the ghosts at bay the better.

"Is that a threat or a choice?"

"Depends on your point of view."

Avon nodded in acknowledgement, "I have nothing better to do."

The two men played Sester's favorite game, speed chess. Five games. Five draws.

_Much better than the chess computers_. Sester thought to himself.

During the play, Sester filed more symptoms away. The analyst was at ease when applying his mind to the challenge. The brilliance was intact and the confidence in his own ability; the restlessness disappeared, the increased energy and breathing rate was maintained.

It was by design that the psychostrategist was involved at this stage. The release would not just be the application of the mind, but the exercising of the mind on a problem with a high degree of difficulty and in particular, a task assigned by the psychostrategist.

The conditioning was working better than expected, but Sester knew that they were still along way from achieving the final goal. Playing games was one thing, giving in to Servalan's demands was another.

Three nightmare scenarios had been completed, two more were planned. The final one would be the worst. By then the progression of the conditioning would be such that the compromise presented would be acceptable.

Sester's psych-strategy had worked. With Servalan and Professor Tarkson's input, and Cally's unwitting aid, each scenario had taken less time to bring the analyst to the brink of madness. With a brain forced to work almost non-stop, the analyst was highly aware of the unraveling of his own mind.

_It must be horrifying being forced to experience your mind slipping into madness and knowing you can do nothing about it. Especially a mind as normally controlled as yours._

After the last game, Sester got up from the chair and said, "I have to go. I have some other work to do."

He gathered up the chess set and signaled to the security observer for the cell door to be opened.

"I enjoyed the challenge," he said as he left the cell. The mind trigger was still active, it was deliberate on his part. Since the conditioning was progressing better than expected, Sester had decided to jump to the next step, introducing the withdrawal.

The cell door slid closed behind him.

_Do you enjoy doing this?_ He could hear Avon's question again.

Sester's reply had been the truth. The complex challenge of breaking a man like him was the kind of game worthy of his skill as a psychostrategist; but he had not answered the real question, he did not enjoy watching this man slowly being destroyed. Unlike Servalan, he had no desire to crush him or to gain the kind of control that she wanted over him.

Psychostrategists controlled within the framework of the game. They manipulated and they strategized, but once the goal had been achieved, the game ends; but for Avon, it would never end, not until Servalan allowed him to die.

Sester sighed, he had his commission. To a psychostrategist, people were nothing more than puppets, pieces in a game.

As he departed the secure cell block, the man he left behind was slowly being driven mad as his mind raced with nowhere to go. The analyst would have to be watched carefully over the next few hours. The guards needed to be put on alert, in case Avon tried to hurt himself as his mind slowly tore itself apart.

For the next three weeks, they manipulated the analyst by varying the application of the triggers; Avon was unaware of the control being asserted. Coupled with the ghosts which continually haunted him, he began to doubt his own sanity. The only relief was in the periodic physical torture sessions and Sester's visits. The games and conversations with the psychostrategist gave him a welcomed diversion and unknown to Avon, served to advance the conditioning.

They no longer required the drugs but they occasionally had to sedate him in order to help him get enough rest.


	10. Chapter 10

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Ten

"Come on ORAC, you mean you can't find any information on this new techno-virus?" Argus asked in frustration as he stood beside the computer unit which lay on a low table beside the command area. The others were listening nearby as they tended to their duties on the flight deck.

"I indicated that already."

"Do you mean that the information is encoded or protected by security protocols you can't break?"

"If I meant that, I would have said it." ORAC always managed to sound annoyed.

"But I thought you could access all computers, given time?"

"Not all."

"Which ones can you not access?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious."

"Humour me."

"I will not answer questions you already know the answer to. It is a waste of my time."

Argus knew by now that even with command code access, ORAC could still be very obstinate. ORAC seemed almost human at times, an ill-tempered, arrogant human.

"Do you at least know if the virus was used on Gaverin Three and Tysis?"

"No. A communications blackout still remains in effect except for triple A Federation security channels, which are impossible to break without a cipher unit, as I have indicated before. From the computer systems I have been able to access, there is information that a new Project Cooperation went into effect on both Gaverin Three and Tysis two weeks before Federation Assault groups landed. There are no other details."

"Project Cooperation," Jenna repeated. She had finished checking the ship's flight controls and had come up behind Argus. "Coming from the Federation, that sounds distinctly ominous."

"So we know that something happened, but not what, and we have no idea if it involves the techno-virus; and even if it was the virus, we still know nothing about it," Argus was on the verge of following Vila's suggestion of dropping ORAC out the airlock. "You've been a great help, ORAC."

Without a question or command given, ORAC remained silent. It did not respond to personal observations. Argus turned off the transmitter.

"What does that leave us with?" Jenna asked.

"What kind of computer can ORAC not access?" Cally asked. She had also finished her own tasks.

"Avon would have known," Vila said as he also joined them near the computer unit.

"Tess probably would have too," Argus remarked. "Wait a moment. Tess. When we were breaking into the Federation Medical Research centre on Tingash, Tess said that she needed hard access in order to gain entry into the computers inside the Level Five Security Labs."

"Of course," Jenna realized what Argus was saying, "because the computers inside the lab were not connected to the main information network. That's why ORAC cannot find any information on the techno-virus. All of the information must be kept on closed systems not attached to the Federation Central Computer Network."

"We need to find a computer expert and a computer engineer," Argus was already planning.

"Ones crazy enough to join us," Vila added.

"And we need to go back to Tingash" Argus told them.

This time they had ORAC, the _Justice_ and the teleport. But they still needed a computer specialist and a technician in order to access the discreet systems inside the Level Five Security labs. They knew that unlike Avon, most computer analysts had little to no knowledge of the hardware make-up of a computer. This was why they had needed the expertise of both Tess and Sato in the rebel group, and now they were both gone.

* * *

The next nightmare scenario involved the events at Terminal. With the other scenarios they had brought Avon back to the original locations, they had not needed to bring him back to the artificial planet. The original proceedings at Terminal had been orchestrated by Servalan, she was intimately involved in the setting up of this scenario. 

"Have I said lately that you have a wonderfully sadistic imagination, Madame President?" Sester asked Servalan. He was speaking to her using the vidcomm in his quarters at the Detention Centre as he reported Avon's progress in the Terminal simulation.

"You have got to stop saying that Sester, I would think that you meant it."

Sester grinned at her. He enjoyed interacting with this woman, it carried a thrill not unlike playing with a deadly snake.

"Your level of detail, the general flair, I was highly impressed," he continued.

"Coming from a psychostrategist, that is high praise indeed. Now stop flirting with me and let's get to business."

"This time it only took seven days to bring him to the same point. He's barely holding on at the moment; I doubt he can distinguish between when he is awake or asleep anymore. I'll give him another hour and then have him brought to the conditioning unit. He will be ready for you in five days."

"My aide will know how to contact me."

"Very good Madame President."

The next stage was very important. Servalan wanted to be involved in this one; the Federation President did not like being deprived of her amusements.

* * *

Servalan turned off the vidscreen. She was sitting behind a large desk in her official Presidential offices. She leaned back and reflected on all the things which were going well, which appeared to be almost everything at this point. The WED rebel group had been neutralized. The only glitch was the inability of the Interrogation Division to extract the names of the high-level Federation military personnel who had been helping the rebels. 

The new techno-virus had turned out to be more than an adequate substitute for Pylene-50, the test results from Sector Ten were very encouraging. As well, a team of psychostrategists working with Central Security, and with help from one of the best assassins from the Terra Nostra had effectively destabilized the entire region. Once the dust settled, the Federation would be able to sweep in to remove whatever resistance was left, with judicious application of the techno-virus. The civilian population would probably welcome them by then.

Having Avon at her mercy was an added bonus. Once he was broken, she would use him to forge a personal private empire. As President she had great power, but she was still bound by the rule of law. Even if she broke it regularly, at least publicly she could not appear to.

"Corry," Servalan called her assistant on the voicecomm. The handsome young man appeared on her vidscreen.

"Yes Madame President?"

"Do I have any meetings this afternoon?"

"Just one at five o'clock with Commissioner Loker of the Cooperation Project."

"Find Controller Tarvin and have him report to my office at two o'clock."

"Yes Ma'am."

Servalan wanted to lay a trap for some old acquaintances.

* * *

Avon was dragged into a large room by two guards. As the hours had passed in his cell, the pressure in his head had grown until it had been unbearable. It had been happening with greater frequency, he had not been able to sit still. His mind had raced, his heart pounded and he had finally started banging his head against the wall to relieve the pressure. It felt like his brain was being squeezed in a refuse compactor. At that point the guards had entered, it was almost as if they had been waiting. They grabbed him and brought him to the large room. 

Servalan and Sester were waiting for him, they were seated behind a large metal table in the centre of the room. The guards hauled him to the chair which was opposite them and shoved him into it. They placed his manacled hands on the table.

In the cell he had almost become manic, it felt as if his head was about to explode but couldn't. Sitting opposite his enemy he struggled not to show any weakness, he stared at them in defiance.

Servalan and Sester watched him silently, Avon was flushed and sweating, his face was strained but emotionless. As they continued to wait, his breathing rate continued to increase. His jaw tightened.

"They say you tried to hurt yourself," Servalan said finally.

There was nothing he could say. He found concentrating on her words helped a bit.

_What are you up to now Servalan? What are you going to do?_

"People would think that you didn't like our hospitality. My apologies if the service here is lacking. I am nothing if not helpful, let me make up for it." She nodded to a guard. The guard unholstered his side-arm and placed it on the table in front of Avon.

Avon stared at the gun on the table, he knew what was meant by the gesture. It was a way out, the same chance he had offered to Shrinker years ago. In his condition, Avon posed no threat to the Federation President, especially not with two armed guards hovering nearby.

Unconsciously he reached for the gun, but then stopped as his mind asserted itself. He could not; if he did Cally would die, he could not let that happen. They knew he wouldn't, else they would not have risked giving him access to the gun in the first place. It was not a test, it was another game and it was a reminder.

Slowly and deliberately he withdrew his hand. He stared coldly at Servalan, "Have you had enough fun yet?"

"It takes a lot to satisfy me Avon."

Again they waited in silence while the pressure continued to build. He wanted to scream, he needed to do something, anything to relieve the pressure. He pushed on the table and attempted to stand up, the guard positioned behind his chair held him down.

Something had been done to him, he was sure of it. They were there to witness their handiwork.

Had they already conditioned him? Was he going to give them what they wanted after all? And what was that? Had he already lost? His mind raced trying to solve this puzzle. The pain and the pressure lessened as he concentrated on the problem, the mystery of what Servalan and Sester were trying to accomplish.

With a shock the horrible truth became clear.

"The focus was me all along, wasn't it?" he whispered in shocked realization. They had not been after the DSV or ORAC. Servalan had been telling the truth all along, they had wanted him, or more accurately, his mind.

He looked at the blaster which still lay on the table, but it was far too late; he had already made the agreement to keep himself under her control. He realized now that he had made a dreadful mistake that day in the warehouse, he had been willing to give up Cally in order to deny Servalan the Deep Space Vehicle and ORAC but he had drawn the line at giving up her life for his own freedom. That had been a mistake. It was not his life they were after; it was the ability to use his brain. There never was any chance, he should have used the grenade.

Servalan smiled, this was the moment she had been waiting for.

"You understand now don't you, Avon? I never lied to you."

He stared at her impassively and stopped concentrating. The nature of what they had done to him was also becoming clear. The inescapable pressure increased again. Either he would let the stress build until his mind exploded or he became insane, both of which would prevent Servalan from ever using him, or they would apply the trigger to relieve the pressure and he would find out to what extent he had already been programmed. His hope was for the first.

They waited in silence. It had been two hours since they applied the trigger to activate his mind, by now the pressure was excruciating. His fists clenched, he continued glaring at her in defiance.

"I think it's a draw," Sester told Servalan.

Professor Tarkson's profile on Avon had suggested that the defiance was an integral part of his brilliance. His ability to solve any puzzle and get around any problem involved a refusal to give in; it was also an important factor in his survival instinct. This defiance was important to his usefulness but also made him extremely dangerous, he would always have to be controlled.

Servalan got up and crossed over to Avon's side of the table. She ran her fingers through his hair. "What am I going to do with you?"

He did not respond either to her question or her touch.

She sighed, "It's time to rest, Avon." Again his mind did not register the implanted trigger phrase but gradually his brain began to relax. He leaned back against the chair, spent. His assumption had been correct, triggers had been implanted. He did not remember it being done, they must have placed a block on his memory. The nightmares were a part of the treatment, they weakened and disoriented him enough so that the conditioning specialist's could shape his mind. His own mind was being used against him.

There was a weakness in what they had done, and he had just exploited it; they still could not force him to do anything, at least not yet but he was under no illusions that they had more planned for him.

* * *

Sester and Servalan were discussing what had just happened. Avon had been returned to his cell to rest. 

"So, did you have enough fun?" Sester asked, echoing Avon's question.

"Be careful Sester."

"I always am Madame President, but then life wouldn't be as interesting," he suppressed a grin.

"He must already know what is coming next after the Terminal scenario."

"He probably knew that before Terminal, by now the anticipation will make it even worse."

"Let's use that. Even though we want his defiance, he needs to be punished for it. Let us hold off on the final scenario, give him time to digest the truth of his situation, keep him wondering when it will happen. From the state of his mind, he will most likely start the scenario himself in his own mind. Let's begin the interrogation cycles again."

"You really are good."

"You're trying to flirt again."

"I can't seem to help myself. Once it is completed, he will be broken enough that we can control him with the compromise."

"Don't celebrate too early Sester, Avon has always defied expectations."

"The Gauda Prime scenario will destroy him."

"It is meant to."

"You really are cruel."

"Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Are you sure you can trust these two?" Jenna asked Argus as she looked around at their suspicious surroundings. They were in a seedy-looking bar on one of the border planets, it was known as a local mercenary hang-out. They were waiting for two contacts that had yet to arrive.

The establishment was what the locals called 'colourful' and the entertainment ran the gamut of dangerous knife games which often ended in blood being shed or brawls accompanied by lots of drinking, usually paid for by the loser.

"Mercenaries are an unpredictable group socially, but they are strictly loyal to whoever pays them well. It's professional ethics," Argus told her. The WED group had used this pair before on other missions requiring computer or technical expertise. This was before Tess, and later Sato, had joined the rebel group.

"They're excellent fighters too."

Two men appeared at the door to the side entrance. Jenna could tell their experience level by the way they seemed to instantly assess the room the moment they entered. One was wearing a dark brown jacket which he was trying to brush the dust off. The other was in dark blue jacket which had numerous pockets. Both wore the black calf length leather boots favoured by mercenaries, and side-arms. Nothing could disguise the mark of ex-Federation military on them.

"Oh I see, more of your ex-military buddies."

"Yes, there are quite a few of us around, unfortunately what skills we do possess don't seem to belong in higher social circles."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

Argus laughed, "We make good troublemakers." He nodded to the men as they came over and joined them.

"Beers?" he asked them.

"I'm thirsty," the blue jacketed one said. His companion nodded, "I need to get this dust out of my throat."

After they had been served and Argus had made introductions, they got down to business.

The brown-jacketed man was Ture Enges, the computer expert whose specialty was breaking into computer systems; the other, Tam Allren was the engineer. They both came with high prices and fortunately, like the _Liberator_, the storeroom of the _Justice_ had enough wealth that hiring them was not a problem. Allren appeared to be the spokesman for the two.

"It's been along time Argus. Thought you had forgotten us. What's the job?" Allren asked.

"We're breaking into Department Four of the Federation's Advanced Medical Research Facility in the Singoa system."

"Mutoids," Ture said with disgust. He had distaste for the bio-mechanoids since one of them had discovered him trying to help one of his buddies who was in the punishment cells and had reported him. Department Four was the centre which had developed the mutoids, and was the "birthplace" of all mutoids.

"That's a high security complex, not to mention all the mutoids," Allren noted.

"It's just an A-level facility."

"Just an A-level," Allren remarked sarcastically, "Another party then. You don't ever seem to come to us for anything lower than an A-level. I don't know whether we should be flattered, or run. How many people do you have?"

"Including the two of you, six."

"You're kidding. I had heard that your group had been destroyed back on Earth but you know how rumours are. So it's true."

"Yes" Argus nodded, "but if you come back to our ship, I'll show you why we only need six. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"No, you haven't but there's always a first time," Allren did not trust easily.

"Make your decision after we show you what we have and what we have in mind."

Allren looked at his companion for confirmation. Ture nodded.

"Agreed."

**********

By the time they loaded Avon on Command Vessel One for Gauda Prime, he was in bad shape. Four weeks of constant torture, nightmares and manipulation using the implanted triggers left him on the edge of complete exhaustion and in constant physical pain. They now kept the lights in his cell low all the time, the ghosts liked the darkness, they tormented him whenever he was left alone.

Avon knew what was coming next. Ever since they had started subjecting him to the nightmare scenarios, he knew that Gauda Prime would be the final destination and now that the Terminal scenario was complete, he knew the final nightmare was coming. It filled him with dread when they had removed him from his cell and loaded him on the ship. Servalan and Sester were both on board along with a contingent of Centre interrogators, his treatments continued unabated.

The knowledge that they were heading towards Gauda Prime meant that his mind was now focusing the nightmares on Blake and the events which had transpired there. He couldn't stop it, he knew he was already nearing the breaking point.

With dismay he also made another discovery. Although he was not aware of the triggers, there was no question when they were activated. They left them on until his mind was on the verge of tearing itself apart, only then would it be turned off. At first he tried to apply his mind to solving puzzles but soon found that it did no good, the conditioning was such that the release only worked when applied by Sester or Servalan or when he was concentrating on a problem in their presence. Now he realized the purpose of Sester's visits to his cell, each time he agreed to play the games, he was deepening his own conditioning. How he hated them both.

**********

Allren and Ture were suitably impressed with the _Justice_ and the teleporter. The technician was particularly inquisitive about a technology which seemed so advanced and alien. Argus made it clear from the beginning that the ship's technology was off-limits.

"Alright. We're agreed then as to price and terms of contract," Allren said.

"Full payment at the successful completion of the job. The partial payment has already been deposited into your accounts," Argus said, completing the formal agreement.

"Fine. When do we start?"

"Immediately. We will start gathering what we need."

**********

Servalan was making a visit to the border planet in her capacity as President of the Federation. Gauda Prime had made a formal application over a year ago to be returned to normal legal status. It had been made an Open Planet in order for the mining corporations to be able to legally exploit what had been an agricultural world. Suspension of the penal code made it easy to remove any opposition. Those who had become wealthy as a result, wanted Gauda Prime to be returned to normal status, hence the application. The condition required of them was that they put their house in order; eighteen months later, it had been achieved to the Federation's satisfaction.

In the guise of Commissioner Sleer, Servalan had been the original arbiter sent to Gauda Prime and now she was returning as President to grant them legal status. The last time she had left the planet with a secret prize, Avon. This time, she was bringing him back.

Servalan and Sester were meeting in her Presidential cabin onboard the ship, they were watching Avon over the vidscreen and discussing their plans.

"You were right," Sester told her, "in his mind the Gauda Prime scenario has already begun. It should not take long once we're on the planet."

"You and Tarkson will have to be careful. I want him broken but not so much that he becomes useless to me," Servalan reminded him. Professor Tarkson was also onboard for this crucial final stage.

"The professor assures me that it all hinges on the options Avon is presented with. The compromises we give him must be an acceptable and unavoidable alternative from his point of view, just like on Terrus with the Auron girl. It may take a long time and it will have to be done in stages, but Tarkson says that once he accepts the first compromise, the path will be set, eventually you should be able to get everything you want from him. By the last one, he will be completely broken but still remain useful to you. It will be quite an achievement."

**********

The _Justice_ crew and their additional two passengers were gathered in the command conference area, going over their plans for the raid on Tingash. It had taken three weeks to gather all the information and equipment they needed but now they were ready.

Jenna rubbed her neck, she was tired. They had been at it for three straight hours without a break. Argus was extremely serious when it came down to mission planning and preparations, it was part of why he had been so successful as a military commander.

"That's good. Everyone is clear on what they're supposed to do?"

They all nodded.

"We've gone over it so many times, I can do it in my sleep now," Vila complained. He hadn't had a drink since they started planning and he was very thirsty.

"That's the idea Vila," said Argus.

Jenna had been impressed with the two mercenaries technical skills and decided to ask, "I don't suppose either of you knows how to remove and adapt a cipher unit?"

"No one knows that, outside of Federation technical cipher specialists," Allren replied. "It's a highly classified skill."

"I wonder how it is that Avon knew," Cally mused.

Ture, who rarely added to conversations, spun around from the calibration of his equipment and ask, "Avon? You mean Kerr Avon?"

"Yes, did you know him?" she asked.

"No, not personally but I do know of him. He has a legendary status in the most exclusive hacker circles, though he never associated with us. There were rumours that he had joined Blake's group and had gone rebel. It totally surprised the rest of us. He is known to never trust anyone and has little use for human beings. He almost destabilized the whole Federation Banking System."

"If he was that good. Why was he caught?" Argus asked. He was still very wary when it came to Avon.

"Believe me it wasn't his skills that got him caught. They would never have known what hit them until it was far too late. It was a brilliant scheme, pure genius, we still talk about it. It was the human element which betrayed him."

"Great, more people who think Avon is a legend," Vila muttered to himself. He was remembering Meegat, the woman on the planet Cephlon who thought Avon was the great Deliverer prophesied by her people. Vila and Gan had thought she must have been insane.

Ture continued, "Sometimes he would just show up at one of our hacker duels, blow everyone away with his skill and leave without talking to anyone. I wish I had been able to witness one of those."

Allren looked puzzled, "Blake was rumoured to have a ship like this one, but it was called the _Liberator_. I thought he was dead."

"He is," Cally told him, "and so is Avon."

"Avon is dead?" the technician reacted in shock. "Are you sure? He's always been elusive and there are always lots of rumours surrounding him. There are even rumours that he betrayed the rebel alliance and is working with the Federation, but obviously that can't be true, otherwise you'd be trying to kill him, right?"

"He gave his life to save mine," Cally said, her voice trailed off. The memory was still painful.

"That doesn't sound like Avon at all," the man said.

"No it wasn't like him at all." Cally only partially agreed with him, apart from Blake, she was the only member of the former _Liberator_ crew who knew the conflicted soul of Avon.

"If you had mentioned you knew Avon, we wouldn't have given you such a hard time," Ture told Argus. "We are glad to join you on this mission."

**********

"Avon, why?" a bloodied Blake asked him as he fell, grabbing him by the arm. Avon tried to pull away but the dying man's grip held him fast, he could not get away. As he tried to pry the man's hands from him, his hands were getting increasingly bloodier. "No!" he struggled to release himself from Blake, from his own guilt. For a man to whom guilt was foreign, this was horrifying. The blood dripped from his hands, hands which gripped the rifle with which he had used to kill Blake.

_Avon, for what it's worth, I have always trusted you the ghost said._

Avon screamed, "No!"

A blow brought him awake. He was wrestling with the guards who had entered his cell while he was dreaming. He continued to struggle like a man possessed. They struck him again. His arms and hands were held fast until he stopped struggling, it did not take long in his weakened state. They injected him with a mild sedative and dragged him from the cell.

The unconscious man was brought to the same underground bunker where he had been captured the first time. Sester watched as the guards chained the analyst to the outside railing of a short flight of steps leading down into the control room and left. From this spot, Avon would not be able to avoid seeing the place where he killed Blake.

Sester stood looking down at Avon, the man's wrists were attached to opposite sides of the railing so that he could not move. With a leg broken in one of the torture sessions onboard the ship, it limited his movements considerably. His position was designed so that he would not be able to hurt himself or to rest comfortably.

The control room was bare except for the computer consoles. The lights had been dimmed. Hidden holoprojectors, audio-amplifiers and monitors were placed at strategic locations.

"I hope for your sake that she will let you go eventually," he told the unconscious man, "but I doubt it."

He took a bio-injector from his pocket and applied it to Avon's neck. The drugs were a mixture of a mild stimulant and a heavy dose of the disorientation drugs used during mind-torture sessions. As Avon began to return to consciousness, Sester activated the trigger, "It's time to work Avon." He silently went up the stairs and exited the control room.

Avon opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He immediately knew where he was, his confused mind tried to concentrate. For a man who did not feel emotion, this was the closest to fear as he had ever come. He struggled against his bonds and winced in the pain from his broken leg, it was useless. Exhausted from the effort, he leaned back against the stairs. He could barely think but he tried, he made a desperate effort to focus a mind that was already slipping away from his control.

_Avon_

A familiar anguished voice echoed in the empty room. The ghost had come.

**********

Servalan, Sester and Professor Tarkson watched with fascination as Avon struggled futilely. They were seated in the security observation room of the complex which had been adapted for their purposes and were watching the monitors showing Avon in the control room.

Holoprojectors were recreating the scene of Blake's death before the horrified man. The scene had been reconstructed from the original security footage. It was being projected from Avon's point of view, as if the events were happening to him again.

"It's quite remarkable. He already knows he has lost but still he is going to fight," Tarkson remarked.

"He wouldn't be Avon if he didn't," Servalan responded.

"You're right of course."

Over the next few days, they took turns in the observation room as Avon's mind fought against itself.


	12. Chapter 12

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Twelve

The _Justice_ was approaching Tingash, the anti-detector screen was functioning. As long as no visual scanners picked them up, they would be undetectable to all other scanners beams. The crew and the two mercenaries were all gathered in the command conference area on the flight deck, looking over the holoprint of the Federation Advanced Medical Research building on Tingash, one last time.

Zen indicated, "Planetary orbit has been established."

Argus: "Zen have the battle computers continue to track the movements of all Federation vessels within scanner range and inform Jenna immediately if there is any danger of hostile movement."

"Confirmed."

There were currently four Mark III pursuit vessels and a heavy cruiser in the area but because of Avon's anti-detector screen, the _Justice_ had not been discovered.

"ORAC, direct the orbital satellites to ignore the areas I indicated earlier."

"Very well."

"Let's go," Argus told the group as he picked up ORAC. Except for Jenna, they all followed him out as he headed towards the teleport room.

As the group put on teleport bracelets, Argus asked ORAC,"Is there a safe place for us to teleport to inside the building?"

"Shielding has been added to the building since the last incursion. It is not possible to teleport into the building. Communications will also be affected."

"Alright, we expected that. How about the safest place outside the building you can find which Vila can access with his tools?"

"There is such a place, but it is recommended that Vila goes down first to open the access."

"Oh great, now ORAC wants to get me killed too," Vila complained.

"Don't worry Vila, I won't let you die alone." Argus checked his pulse weapon and headed towards the teleport platform, "Are you coming?"

"This didn't go so well the last time," Vila reminded them. "I'm having feelings of déjà vu."

"We're doing this for Avon," Cally told him as she too checked her pulse weapon. "Avon obtained the original antidote for Pylene-50 in order to fight the Federation, we need to get the antidote for this techno-virus."

Vila stared at her, there was nothing he could say in response to her despite his unwillingness to participate in this dangerous mission, he would have preferred one of Avon's sarcastic remarks about his cowardice or his general limitations. Reluctantly he picked up his toolbox and crossed over to join Argus.

"Put us down Jenna," Argus told her as he drew his weapon in readiness.

* * *

The place ORAC had identified was on the roof of the building.

Argus activated his wristcomm on the bracelet and reported, "Down and safe. I will contact you when we've gained access."

"I'm not good with heights," Vila said as he looked around at their roof surroundings.

"Well the sooner you get us into the building, the less time you will be up here then. There's an access hatch over here."

The hatch was locked.

Vila made a visual inspection. "Just a physical lock. Hang on, what do we have here?" He was feeling around the outside of the hatch. "There's a sensor pad. It probably sets off an alarm if the hatch is opened."

"Can you get it open without tripping the alarm?"

"No problem," Vila said confidently, he set to work. Several minutes later, he had it open. "No challenge at all."

Argus looked through the opened hatch. No one in sight, so far so good. He called the ship, "Send the others down Jenna."

At that moment the building alarms began to sound.

"You must have tripped the alarm," Argus told Vila.

"No I didn't. It's impossible."

Argus immediately called the ship again, "Jenna don't teleport. Repeat don't teleport."

"What's wrong? Is that an alarm?"

"Yes, bring us back up immediately."

* * *

At that moment, eight Federation assault vessels suddenly appeared surrounding the Deep Space Vehicle.

As they both appeared back onboard the ship, ORAC said, "Zen reports that eight Federation assault vessels have appeared, they are surrounding the _Justice_. Jenna has raised the forcewall."

They all rushed to the flight deck. Vila set ORAC back on the table in the command area, they all went to their respective stations. The two mercenaries stood off to the side, trying to stay out of the crew's way.

"Zen, visual display," Jenna said as she settled into her flight control console.

Ominous Federation vessels appeared on the screen.

The plotting screen on her panel showed them surrounded.

"Zen, have the battle computers suggest the optimal flight path to escape," Argus told the ship's computer from the co-pilot's console next to Jenna.

"The battle computers report that all paths would put the ship within critical firing range of Federation assault vessels, they indicate the best possible course of action is to surrender," reported Zen.

"I do not surrender," Argus stated. There was a cold determination in his voice.

"There's no way we can outrun them like this," Jenna told him.

"How did they know? It was almost as if they were waiting for us," Cally remarked. She had taken up Avon's old operations station.

"Zen, how did you not detect those ships," Argus asked.

"The scanners did not register the ships."

"How is that possible?"

"The assault vessels must possess a similar anti-detector shield that the _Justice_ has," was the reply from the computer.

"That's possible," Jenna told him, "the Federation does have that capability on some of their ships. We ran into it on the Liberator several months after Avon developed his."

"Then Cally was right," Vila said from his neutron blaster control station, "it was a trap. They were waiting for us all along; I said that this was déjà vu."

"Unfortunately that information doesn't help us at the moment," Argus told him.

Zen piped up, "Scanners have detected that eight plasma bolts have been launched."

"Cally, put up the radiation flare shield," Argus ordered. Cally rushed over to the forcewall control console.

"Radiation flare shield up."

"Even though we have the superior ship, we can't outfight eight assault vessels," Jenna said to Argus, "We would have trouble with even three."

They all held onto their consoles as the bolts rocked the ship.

"Eight more plasma bolts have been fired," Jenna reported.

"Zen, how long can the forcewall withstand the assault before the energy banks are drained," Argus asked.

"At the present rate of energy expenditure, the energy banks will be depleted in thirty-nine minutes."

The bolts hit the ship, the crew and the mercenaries all hung on. Again Federation ships fired.

"Zen damage report."

"Autorepair units report minor damage. The forward shield is down twenty-five percent."

Jenna crossed over to Avon's old operations flight console and reported, "Four of the bolts were concentrated on the rear deflectors."

The next set of bolts hit. The ships fired again, this time they each fired two bolts at different intervals.

"Rear deflector shield is at fifty percent," reported Zen.

"Jenna rotate the ship," Argus told her. Argus was a land-based commander, not familiar with space combat, but he was a quick study. He had been spending time with ORAC and Zen, learning the capabilities of the ship.

Jenna took the flight controls, the ship rotated but even as the first set of bolts hit the side of the ship, the second set still hit the rear deflectors.

Unlike Argus, the Federation commander of the assault group was very experienced with space combat and he was good, he had anticipated their maneuver and had judged the plasma strikes with precision. Two more sets of bolts were launched.

"Rear deflector shield is at twenty-five percent."

"We're a sitting target like this," Vila stated the obvious. "If we don't surrender, we'll be dead."

"They're not interested in surrender," Cally told him. "If they were, they would have contacted us by now."

"She's right," Argus agreed. "They want to destroy us. If we're going to go down, let's at least bring down as many of them as we can. Vila, clear the neutron blasters for firing."

"Blasters are cleared and ready for firing. This is a stupid idea."

"If you have any other ideas, now would be a good time," Argus told him.

The next two salvos hit, this one did damage. The flight deck lights dimmed, emergency lighting turned on automatically. Ture had lost his hold and had been thrown across the flight deck, there was blood coming from at deep gash on his head. Allren rushed over to his partner and examined him. "Is there a med kit?" he asked out loud.

Cally left her station and brought over the flight deck's emergency med kit.

"Zen, report damage," Argus asked as Cally tended to the injured man.

"Rear deflectors are no longer operational. Autorepair units report damage to primary engines and hull sensor array. Life support systems have sustained damage. The ship is currently on auxiliary life support. Autorepair systems are repairing the damage. Weapon systems are operational."

"Vila, target the ship at…"

"What about the sopron?" Cally asked. She was applying a healing pad to the mercenary's head injury.

"There's no time to speculate on that now. Vila, target…"

"Avon must have built it for a reason and we've run out of options, there's no harm in trying. Maybe it will give us an advantage which will help or it can confuse them just enough to open up a window of opportunity."

"Zen, what is the maximum speed we can achieve with the current level of damage?"

"Maximum speed is standard by two."

"At that rate, they could out walk us without a problem," Vila remarked.

"Go ahead," Argus nodded to her, "We have nothing else to lose."

She indicated to Allren to take over from her and crossed over to the anti-detector screen panel. Cally pressed the black button. For a moment nothing happened, then all of a sudden, a huge armada of Deep Space Vehicles appeared moving all around them, some of them dangerously close.

"Where did those come from?" Jenna exclaimed. She grabbed the flight controls and tried to steer clear from the closest ones.

"Zen, identify the ships," Argus requested.

"They are all deep space vehicles exactly like the _Justice_."

Cally said, "And they all appear to have the exact same damage as we do too."

"Avon, you're a genius," Argus exclaimed. "Zen, follow a random pattern just like the mirror images of the _Justice_."

"Confirmed."

"Is the anti-detector screen still operational?"

"The anti-detector screen has sustained no damage."

"That means that we're still invisible to their medium and long range scanners. The only way they can track us is using their close range visual scanners and that just got a lot harder and if my guess is correct, Avon would have also given us a way out. Cally see if there are any directional controls on that panel. I want the mirror images of the ship to randomly disperse."

Argus may not like Avon, but he did respect the man's ability and intelligence.

The Federation ships had begun firing on the mirrored ships around the position they had just vacated.

Argus directed the ship's computer, "Zen, have the battle computers plot us a variable random escape course which will take us out of range of the assault ship's close range visual scanners and will avoid the focus of the plasma bolts."

"Confirmed." After a few moments, Zen reported, "Course plotted. State speed."

"When I instruct you, follow the plotted course at maximum possible speed."

"Confirmed."

"Cally how are you doing?"

"I've been going over some of the instructions Avon left on the computer. I've worked out the basic controls, I think I can do what you ask."

"Alright, let's see if this works. Go ahead Cally. Zen follow the set course, imitate the mirrored ships as needed."

"Confirmed."

The _Justice_ was badly damaged but thanks to Avon, they escaped with their lives. Servalan's trap had been foiled by the man whom she was close to breaking.


	13. Chapter 13

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Thirteen

Servalan waited as the medtech finished his examination of the unconscious man. They had had to sedate him again in order to give his exhausted mind some rest; it had been five days since he was brought to Gauda Prime and he was nearing the end. The analyst was slumped forward in his chains.

"Bring him around."

"Yes Madame President."

After he had injected the drugs, the medtech was dismissed.

Servalan bent down and lifted up Avon's head; he opened his eyes. For a moment she saw something in them she had never seen before, despair.

Servalan grabbed his throat with her right hand and squeezed, cutting off his air. As he struggled, she kissed him. Before he lost consciousness, she let go and stepped back. He gasped for air and glared at her in hatred.

"That was for the time on Sarran. I have a long memory Avon and I don't forgive."

She was referring to the time after they had both crash landed on Sarran after the battle at Star One. He had kissed her and as she responded, he had grabbed her throat and thrown her to the ground in a refusal of a partnership she had just offered him. He had known her treachery all too well to take her seriously.

"How much longer do you think you can hold out?" Servalan asked.

"How long can you wait?" he rasped.

"I have all the time in the world but I do not think it will be that long, do you?"

He did not respond. "It's time to work Avon," Servalan activated the mind trigger which would force his mind to think. She walked up the stairs behind him and left him to his nightmares. She smiled.

* * *

"Again your cruelty and brilliance takes my breath away Madame President," Sester told Servalan as she returned to the control room. He had been watching the scene on the monitors.

"What did I say about flirting with me?"

"I need a refresher course?" he grinned at her. "He was already at the end and you did the one thing that would make him fight again, and now he has to spend a few more days in there. Very well calculated."

"It was nothing."

* * *

Avon hung limp in the chains. The voices would not leave him alone. He shut his eyes, but still the scenes played over and over; his mind was very creative. He wanted it to end; but his mind would not let him go. He had already lost control.

"Avon," Servalan's voice gently called his name.

He opened his eyes.

"Have you had enough? Or shall I leave you alone again?"

He did not respond; Servalan turned to go.

"No," his response was a strangled whisper.

She bent down and touched his face.

"You know what I want." He looked up at her.

She could see the pain in his eyes as he struggled.

"I can't," he whispered in anguish. "I can't."

"It's your choice Avon. It always has been."

"No!" he cried out his torment. She had won but he could still not give her what she wanted.

"You are so stubborn." She caressed his face and smoothed his disheveled hair. His forehead was hot. "Would it be so bad to serve me?"

"Yes," he whispered. She smiled, and she would enjoy every minute.

"I think you need more time. To think," she said as she got up. "It's time to work Avon."

Avon struggled weakly against his chains but they held him fast. He gave a cry of anguish as she left.

* * *

"Is this necessary?" Professor Tarkson asked Servalan as she returned to the observation room. "In his state, he will already give you the compromise."

"I know."

"Even with this," his head indicated the monitor. "He still won't give you anymore than that."

"I know that too."

"Then why?"

"It is for educational purposes, his."

"I see."

They watched Avon's increased distress as his mind slowly destroyed itself because it had been given nothing to focus on.

* * *

Two long hours of a mind racing with nowhere to go was driving him insane. The voices in his head got louder and more insistent. "Stop!" he shouted at them in agony. He needed it to end.

"Avon." Servalan had returned, the psychostrategist was standing behind her. She bent down and lifted his bowed head.

"Are you ready now?"

Avon looked wearily up at his enemy, the pain and anguish was evident on his face as was the advancing madness.

"We can keep this up as long as you want. Shall we do that?" Servalan stood up.

"Please," he said in a choked whisper, every word a reluctant admission of defeat," no more."

"That's better. You know about the triggers don't you?"

"Yes." He answered.

"And you know that applying yourself to solving a problem directed by Sester or myself will relieve the pressure?"

"Yes," he replied tonelessly.

"You know what I want."

He struggled as he answered, "I can't."

"Then you give us no choice but to continue." She turned to go.

"No," he pleaded. There was desperation in his voice. "Please. I can't."

This was the moment they had been waiting for, he was ready.

"A compromise then, I will not ask you to work on any technology associated with when you were on the Liberator."

They could see his struggle as he considered her offer. "And ORAC," he added. Even in defeat, he still fought for control.

"No."

"Then leave me here."

"You don't think I will?"

"I know you will," he answered her; there was misery and hopelessness in his voice.

Servalan smiled. Avon was even more important to her than ORAC at this point. As long as she had him, she would eventually get ORAC. Giving this to him now, only delayed the inevitable. She also had ORAC's activation key, without it no one else could use ORAC.

"Very well Avon, the agreement is extended to ORAC."

He looked up at her. There was no hatred in his eyes, no anger in his face; nothing at all. Only tightness in the jaw gave any indication of his stress.

"I will do whatever you ask, within those conditions."

"Our original agreement remains in effect."

"Yes."

"It's time to rest Avon."

The pressure in his brain slowly eased, he closed his eyes and rested.

"It i's time to return home," Servalan remarked.

* * *

Servalan, Sester and Professor Tarkson were celebrating in the lounge of her Presidential suite aboard Command Vessel One. The broken man had been brought back onboard and was now sleeping in his cell.

"Excellent cognac Madame President, the real thing. I think I could get used to this," Tarkson indicated his appreciation of the drink he was sipping.

"Don't," she said icily. She lifted her glass. "Congratulations to you both, what you achieved exceeded my expectations."

"Avon exceeded my expectations," Tarkson remarked.

"He always does."

"What next Madame President?" Sester asked, by now he knew she was never satisfied.

"We will work him. I have many projects lined up for someone of his talents."

"And each time he gives in to your demands, he deepens his own conditioning," the professor commented.

"It's perfect."

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Sester noted.

"Immensely."

Servalan had just gained a great victory over an enemy who had both infuriated and fascinated her over the years. Avon was in her control at last; she would never let him go.


	14. Chapter 14

**New Patterns and Old Friends: Broken Things**

Chapter Fourteen

Avon sat on the sleeping platform and leaned back against the wall, he was tired. The guards had just returned him to his cell. It had been forty-two standard days since returning from Gauda Prime, and he had been worked constantly ever since.

Unlike his first time as a prisoner here, he was acutely aware of the passage of time. There were time instruments in the secure underground facility which had been connected to the Federation Special Detention Centre via a new underground tunnel. It had been specially adapted to house his laboratory. His days were long, normally sixteen to twenty hours and he was never allowed more than four hours sleep. If he tried to sleep beyond the allowed number of hours, the guards would come to "encourage" him to stay awake. Their help usually left him collapsed and bleeding on the floor of his cell.

The mind trigger was applied whenever he worked, it prevented him from resting for more than a few minutes at a time in the lab, and even though it was no longer required, he was still in restraints. It did not hamper his ability to work; they were just a reminder of their control. The conditioning was now deeply ingrained.

Avon looked up at the harsh lights, at least they had given him that. He had requested that the lights be turned back up to their normal harshness; without them, the waking nightmares came. He hoped the medtech came soon, these days he could not sleep without the sedatives. Whatever they had done to his mind was still causing horrifying nightmares when he slept. There was something in the sedatives which also helped prevent the nightmares.

The door to his cell slid open, it was Sester. The psychostrategist walked over to the platform and sat down on the chair next to it.

"What do you want?" the analyst asked tonelessly.

"How are you doing today, Avon?"

"You didn't come here to inquire after my health."

"True. I was tired of talking to people who don't think."

"Is that meant to be funny?"

"You of all people must know how frustrating it is when everyone around you is a delta-grade idiot."

"Do you?"

Sester smiled. His reasons were exactly as he had told Avon. He was bored and he needed conversation which was intellectually challenging; verbal sparring with Avon always refreshed him.

"And what will you do if I ignore you, use the mind trigger?"

"I deserved that," Sester acknowledged the accusation, and added, "but I will."

Avon stared at him, waiting.

"Your profile said that you love doing research, being able to solve puzzles is almost an obsession; this is what you are being given. Why don't you make the best of what you have?"

"Is there anything in that profile which suggests that I enjoy intellectual slavery?"

The door slid open again, it was the medtech with the sedative injection.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't know you were in here sir."

"I will call you when I'm done," Sester told the man, waving him away in dismissal.

"Yes sir," the medtech acknowledged and left.

Avon sighed wearily, "You're not going to let me sleep until you're satisfied are you?"

"No."

"What do you want from me?"

"I told you, I want to talk to someone who's closer to my level."

"In other words you're bored."

"Something like that."

"So my service includes keeping you entertained?"

"Don't think of it that way."

"There's another way to look at it?"

"You have a point."

After two hours, Sester finally left him alone. The medtech came in and gave Avon the sedative mixture. The analyst lay staring at the ceiling as the drug took effect. He needed to rest, they would come for him in another two hours. The time the psychostrategist took up was never taken into account in his rest periods.

* * *

Several days later it was Servalan's turn to pay him a visit. He was sitting opposite her in one of the interrogation rooms, they were alone and Avon was restrained to the chair. The security cameras had been turned off. He had just finished another exhausting day at the laboratory but instead of bringing him back to his cell to sleep, they had brought him here.

"Don't tell me you're bored too," Avon asked her. "Ran out of planets to destroy, people to subjugate?"

"Now Avon, you know I never tire of that."

"What do you want Servalan?"

"I just wanted to see how you were."

"You mean you wanted to gloat."

"Well, that too. You have been doing good work Avon."

"Spare me."

"You look tired."

"Do I?" he asked sarcastically.

"Are we going to have a civil conversation, Avon?"

"It's too late for that."

"Why do you insist on making it difficult for yourself?"

"Stop playing games Servalan and get on with the torture."

"You know, I have thought of something much better for you. It's time to work Avon." She pressed a button to signal to the guards to come back in. "Bring him back to the lab."

The guards removed the prisoner from the chair, reapplied the restraints and led him out.

"Have fun Avon," Servalan called after him.

* * *

"What is Avon doing back in the lab? He's already had twenty hours," Sester asked Servalan as he entered the security control booth. The two were observing from the security observation room adjacent to the laboratory.

"It's a little experiment."

"He defied you again, didn't he? What is it about him that makes you want to see him suffer?"

She ignored his question. "I want him worked until he collapses, then inform me. Do not release the mind trigger until I get back."

"Very well, Madame President."

* * *

Avon put the probe down and flexed his fingers, they were stiff and beginning to shake from exhaustion. He was leaning over an open panel to a power generator. There were shooting pains from his back; unrelieved stress and overuse tended to aggravate it. He stretched to ease the soreness and then sat down, leaning back he closed his eyes. He knew he only had five or six minutes before the conditioning would force him to get back to work.

It had been forty-two hours since Servalan had instructed the guards to return him to the laboratory. They were making him fight himself again and this time it was the endurance of his own mind and body which they were using. He knew it was only a matter of time before he collapsed.

He got up before the pressure in his head became unbearable, picked up the probe and returned to his experiments. They were making him work on redesigning a new power cell interface. He found that reorganizing the circuits and building a new phase converter had increased the output efficiency fifty fold.

What he did not tell them was that he already had another idea for the new converter which would increase it a hundred fold. This he did not include in his notes nor did he give any indication to the fools who had been assigned to monitor his work. Servalan could make him work, and her sadistic little games could push him until he collapsed, but he had no intention of giving her everything.

* * *

One hour after Avon collapsed from exhaustion, Servalan arrived back at the Centre. She had just finished a weekly status meeting with the top admirals from Space Command.

"He's in the med-wing," Sester informed her as she arrived with her personal guards. "Since you won't let me turn off the trigger until you got here, he's had to be secured in the med wing. The doctor has also been using a neural restorative to prevent his brain from burning out. You're playing a risky game if you want his mind intact and usable."

"That is what the Centre's doctors are here for. They know the price for failure if he becomes useless before I allow him to die."

They headed towards the infirmary.

* * *

The doctor finished his report to Servalan. He added, "Including the original twenty, he lasted a total of seventy-one hours. Considering that he is never allowed enough time to adequately rest, it's quite amazing he was able to carry on that long."

"That's Avon and that is exactly why he has been kept weakened," she told the man.

They crossed over to where Avon lay strapped to a bio-bed. His face was pale and strained. His breathing was shallow and he moved restlessly.

"Three zero four two coefficient factor," he moaned weakly as his mind tried to think against the exhaustion.

"What i's he doing?" Servalan asked.

"His mind is still trying to work," the doctor replied, "with the conditioning, it has no choice. But he's so weak; he can't concentrate enough to prevent the pressure from building. If this continues, even the drugs won't help, his mind will burn out. We thought we were going to have to sedate him."

"Alright. Give him the neural restorative and a stimulant and then you may go."

"But I should be here to monitor in case something happens."

"Nothing will. Now leave us."

The doctor thought about voicing his objections but thought better of it. He looked at the suffering man on the bed; it was not healthy to oppose the Federation President. The doctor did as requested and left.

Servalan took a cloth, wet it in a basin nearby and applied it to Avon's forehead. He was burning up; at the cool touch, he opened his eyes.

"Have you had enough?" she asked him.

"Does it matter?" Speaking took a great effort.

"For you, yes."

The analyst's face was blank, but she could see the anger in his eyes.

He finally whispered, "I've had enough."

She wiped his face with the cloth gently. "It's time to rest Avon." His brain let go and allowed him to sleep.

Sester said, "Each time you force him to capitulate he will hate you even more."

"I am counting on it."

Sester understood her strategy. It was essential that Avon keep fighting them, it was an important factor in his brilliance. "You're playing a dangerous game with him. If he had even the remotest chance, he would destroy you."

"It is a game we are both very good at playing. Avon values his own life above all else, and he is an opportunist. He will do whatever is needed to survive. Normally, his freedom is almost as important to him as his life, but we have maneuvered him into giving that up; the only thing he has left is his life."

"You would have made an excellent psychostrategist."

"Being President is imminently more profitable and provides much greater scope."

"So it does. Avon would also have made a brilliant one."

"He would have, but he prefers machines and computers over people."

"One day you will succeed in breaking his spirit."

"By then, I will already have everything I want from him, and he will no longer be of any use to me, though I might keep him around for amusement."

* * *

"Give him the stimulant," Servalan instructed the medtech.

The man did so and then stepped back out of the way. Two Centre guards were standing nearby.

"Wake up Avon," Servalan said.

The shattered analyst was sleeping with his body faced towards the wall. He had been returned to his cell three hours ago from his grueling ordeal.

When there was no movement from the prisoner, one of the guards hit him in the back with the butt of his rifle. Avon moaned in pain and stirred but did not get up. The guard hit him again.

"Sit up Avon," Servalan commanded him.

He rolled slowly towards her and held up his hands as the guard prepared to strike him again. The other guard took hold of his hands and pulled him forward. Unresisting, Avon sat up. The guard removed one of the restraints and re-attached it behind the prisoner's back.

"Leave us now."

The medtech and the two guards left the cell. The door slid closed leaving the prisoner and his enemy alone. The security cameras were always turned off when Servalan was visiting the prisoner.

Avon leaned tiredly back against the wall and waited. He noted that she was wearing an unaccustomed wristcomm.

Servalan observed the prisoner as he waited, he was her familiar enemy, the fatigue on his face was the only sign of weakness. His look was one of studied indifference, there was no hint of the hatred she knew he felt for her. He may have been weakened, but the control was still there, even after all of the torture, the conditioning, and the continual wearing down, Avon was still Avon.

Servalan got up from her seat and stood beside him, she touched his face gently caressing his cheek, he did not react. Without warning she grasped his hair and pulled his head back, he gasped in pain. Avon glared at her as she held his head, she smiled, bent down and kissed him. He struggled but she held him fast; between them there was always equal parts hatred, great respect for each others abilities and a deep but contained passion, all of which was evident by the time she released him.

She let him go and stepped back, he looked angrily at her.

"Nothing to say?" she asked.

"What is there to say?"

She smiled and sat down.

"Are we going to have a civil conversation now?"

He continued glaring at her.

"Now don't be angry Avon."

Still silence.

"It would be tiresome to have to put you through another seventy-one hours."

Silence.

"Do you want to be forced to fight yourself again?"

Avon looked away and replied, "No."

"What happened to you, Avon?"

"What hasn't?"

"It is a shame that we could never be partners. Those qualities which make you exceptional also make you far too dangerous. If you were anything less, I would have nothing to do with you."

"The irony doesn't escape me."

"I must admit when that second Liberator showed up, I was shocked. Despite the astronomical odds against it, you somehow managed to end up with both ORAC and a new Liberator. No one else could have managed it but somehow you did," her voice was full of admiration.

"You were all set to disappear with both of them weren't you? Your own private sanctuary, without the burden of all those people with their annoying ambitions."

He laughed, "Of course."

She always enjoyed his laughter, that wryness when caught in his true intentions.

"Unfortunately it didn't turn out that way," Avon closed his eyes, exhaustion was overtaking him. He had still not recovered from being forced to work until he collapsed.

"Don't fall asleep Avon."

He opened his eyes wearily and looked at her.

"If you want to continue using me, I need rest," he told her.

"Talk to me and I may let you rest." She knew that he had reached the limits of his endurance but she was not to be denied.

Avon waited, he knew that she could activate the mind trigger at any time and then he would no longer have a choice.

"I am curious, how did you manage to find another Liberator?" she asked.

"You're not seriously expecting me to answer that," he replied, more as a statement than a question.

"No harm in trying," she smiled. Like Sester, she also enjoyed the verbal interaction with Avon.

"You know that your crew thinks you are dead."

"I guessed as much when you blew up the warehouse, and they're not my crew."

"That's right, they're Argus's crew."

"Don't try to bait me with them Servalan, it won't work."

"You do not have much respect for people like Argus do you?"

"He's an idealist," he said with disdain.

"Like Blake."

Avon stared at her coldly, not responding. Where Blake was concerned, he would not humour her.

Servalan nodded in acquiescence. Since she had used Blake as a weapon to break him, this one thing she would give him.

"Argus is a soldier, a former Federation Land Commander in fact; a brilliant one. He never lost a battle and his men loved him."

"Yes we agree he is annoying, now is there a point in telling me this useless information?"

"I just thought you might find it interesting to know that he made a serious mistake recently. He tried to destroy one of our advanced research stations and walked right into a trap. Almost lost the ship you went to such great lengths to procure. It is severely damaged, but they used a new technology to replicate the Liberator on our scanners and got away. I imagine that is your doing, you had time to develop a new technology?"

"He's a fool."

"You are not denying the new technology?"

"You don't need confirmation from me on something you already know."

"I don't suppose you would care to tell us what that new technology is?"

"Stop wasting your time Servalan."

Her voice began to take on a threatening tone, "You agreed to do whatever we asked as long as we stayed away from the Liberator or ORAC."

"You don't have to remind me."

"You are saying that the technology was something you developed while on the Liberator?"

"Yes at Kairos."

"I see," she was not pleased. She had not forgotten the Kairos incident and how Avon had tricked her, "You know that eventually I will get everything I want from you."

"But not today."

"Not today," she agreed.

She kept him talking for another hour.

At the end, she got up and said, "I will let them know that you are to be given another four hours sleep."

"How generous."

"Do you need the sedatives?"

"Yes." He could barely keep awake as it was, but he needed the drugs to help prevent the nightmares.

She pressed the wristcomm she was wearing, "Open the cell door and reactivate the monitors."

"Yes Madame President."

The door slid open immediately, her personal guards were waiting just outside. The medtech came in to give him his injection and left.

"Good night Avon." She exited the cell.

As the door slid closed again, Avon realized that his hands were still cuffed behind him. He sighed and with difficulty, lay down.

It was really a shame that he and Servalan had always been on opposite sides. The way she had manipulated him over the past half year was masterful. She was as much a genius at that as he was with computers and machines. They both had the same lack of morality but where his focus was on personal survival and independence, hers was in the acquisition of power. As a result, they would always be enemies.

As sleep took him, he knew she was right, with both Servalan and Sester working together against him, he was outnumbered and outmatched. Eventually he would give her everything she wanted; they controlled him, it was only a matter of time, but he could not let that happen.

They may have manipulated him into giving up his freedom, but he still had his life; and the mind that they had taken such great pains to obtain and control, was a double-edged sword. To beat them would be extremely difficult, but that was what he specialized in; that was why he was so valuable and also why he was so dangerous.


End file.
